By  The'  i    ' 

Marshes  of  Minas 


By  Charles  GDRoberts 


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"  She  approached  smiling  gayly,  her  eyes  of  an  unearthly  beauty 
in  the  flaring  light." — i^Page  24.J.) 

Frontispiece. 


3  ^\fr^v'>v^  Vkte\ 


A^\\'^0\ 


By  the  Marshes 
of  Minas 


Charles  G;  D 


»- 


oberte 


Author  of    TAe  Forge  in  the  Forest,  A    Sister  to 

Evangeline,  Earth's  Enigmas,  A  History  of  Canada 

New  York  Nocturnes  Qs^c. 


Silver,   Burdett  and  Company 
Boston,     New  York,     Chicago 


fa 

89^ 


Copyright,  1900 

BV 

SILVER,  BURDETT  AND  COMPANY 


TIbe  Itnichcrbocfier  preee,  Ttew  ]^orlt 


Prefatory  Note 


THE  stories  in  this  collection  all  deal  with 
that  romantic  period  in  Canadian  history 
when  the  French  were  making  their  last  struggle 
to  retain  their  hold  upon  the  peninsula  of  Acadie 
— now  called  Nova  Scotia.  The  book  is  named 
from  those  wide  sea-meadows  and  that  restless 
water  around  which  chiefly  clusters  the  romance 
of  Acadian  story.  Two  of  the  tales — '  *  The  Eye 
of  Gluskdp  "  and  "  A  Tragedy  of  the  Tides" — 
are  here  reprinted  from  the  volume  entitled 
Earth's  Enigmas^  for  the  reason  that  their  sub- 
jects bring  them  obviously  within  the  scope  of 
this  collection  rather  than  the  other. 

C.  G.  D.  R. 

London,  July,  1899. 


Contents 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal  . 
The  Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy 
Gaspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands 
Brown  Witch  and  Black  Ahh6 

La  Mouche 

A  Tragedy  of  the  Tides    . 

The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare 

By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door    . 

How  Viardeau  Obeyed  the  Black  Ahb6 

Griil's  Gift  .         .         . 

The  Maid  of  the  Drift      . 

The  Eye  of  Gluskip 


Page 

I 

22 
48 
76 
92 
III 

181 
205 
227 
253 


BY  THE  MARSHES  OF  MINAS 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal 

Being  an  Adventure  of  Captain  Seth  Waldo,  of 
the  Connecticut  Battalion,  Serving  under  Sir 
William  Phips  in  Acadie 

BOSTON  HARBOUR  itself  is  scarce  more 
sightly,  nor  half  so  spacious !  ' '  exclaimed 
Major  Ephraim  Whitman,  as  he  leaned  upon  the 
bulwarks  of  the  Boston  ketch  God's  Mercy,  and 
gazed  with  great  content  across  the  wide  waters 
of  the  Basin  to  the  low  green  ramparts  of  Port 
Royal. 

In  very  truth,  there  was  nothing  in  the  bay  of 
Boston  to  compare  with  it.  Nor  even  in  the 
havens  of  my  own  Connecticut  could  one  match 
that  great  and  sheltered  expanse  of  safe  anchor- 
age, lying  in  wondrous  peace  between  rich  shores 


By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 


and  high  umbrageous  hills.  But  Major  Ephraim 
was  a  Boston  man,  and  I  thought  it  not  well  to 
contend  with  him  in  the  matter.  He  had  paid 
this  place  of  Port  Royal,  this  lovely  lair  of  our 
most  pestilent  annoyers,  the  highest  compliment 
that  lay  within  his  compass.  I  answered,  there- 
fore, in  such  a  manner  as  to  stir  no  contention. 

"  'T  is  indeed  a  fair  water  and  a  fair  shore," 
said  I.  "  And  fair  would  seem  our  chance  of 
soon  possessing  that  same  fairness."  But  in  my 
heart  was  the  thought  of  something  fairer  far,  the 
possession  of  which  I  held  of  more  account  by  an 
infinite  deal  than  all  the  lands  commanded  by  the 
ramparts  of  Port  Royal. 

As  Major  Ephraim,  wrapped  in  glad  contem- 
plation of  some  imagined  similitude  to  the  bay  of 
Boston,  spoke  no  further  at  the  moment,  I  was 
free  to  think  of  my  good  fortune  in  being  once 
more  within  a  neighbourhood  that  held  Diane  de 
Menneval.  One  year  agone,  I  being  then  a  poor 
captive  in  Montreal,  Diane  had  looked  upon  me 
with  a  pity  whose  nigh  kinship  to  love  she  had  at 
last  sweetly  confessed  to  me.  My  exchange 
being  accomplished  (I  was  held  at  the  price  of  a 
little  pock-marked  French  colonel  whom  I  might 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal  3 

have  stowed  away  in  one  of  my  jack-boots),  I  had 
gone  back  to  New  England  with  an  ill-disguised 
reluctance;  but  at  parting  with  Diane  I  had 
sworn  that  I  would  come  to  her  in  the  following 
spring.  Since  that  parting  and  that  oath  she 
had  removed  to  Acadie,  that  her  gracious  pre- 
sence might  cheer  the  loneliness  of  her  uncle,  the 
Sieur  de  Menneval,  Governor  of  Port  Royal. 
Now,  thanks  to  a  favouring  wind  and  honest 
piloting,  here  was  I  at  my  lady's  very  threshold, 
so  to  speak,  making  good  my  oath.  But  would 
she  pardon  the  manner  of  my  coming  ?  Would 
she  welcome  the  gallant  a-wooing  sword  in  hand  ? 
I  shifted  uneasily  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  as 
I  bethought  me  of  a  certain  imperiousness  in  her 
stately  carriage,  of  a  certain  aptitude  for  scorn  in 
the  green  dusks  of  her  deep  eyes.  As  I  gazed 
desirously  across  the  smooth  yellow  tide  to  the 
clustering  cottages  of  the  village  and  the  green 
ramparts  guarding  them,  something  of  my  solicit- 
ude must  have  shown  itself  in  my  face,  for  Major 
Ephraim  spoke  suddenly. 

"  Seth,"  said  he,  with  a  sly  chuckle,  "  I  've 
heard  say  there  is  a  maid  in  Port  Royal  whose 
name  dwelleth  more  in  thy  heart  than  on  thy 


By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 


lips;  and  in  sooth  I  begin  to  believe  it.  Such 
a  moonsick  face  as  thine  have  I  never  seen  on  a 
man  except  he  were  in  love !  " 

"  She  is  there,  behind  those  very  earthen  walls, 
Ephraim,"  returned  I  soberly;  "  and  so  fair  a 
maid  as  never  came  out  of  Boston." 

The  Major  laughed  dryly.  He  had  taken  two 
wives  out  of  Boston. 

"  I  feel  for  thee,  Seth;  verily  I  feel  for  thee," 
said  he.  "  If  she  be  a  maid  of  any  spirit,  she 
will  scarce  thank  her  gallant  for  the  shots  that 
will  presently  be  bringing  down  the  walls  about 
her  ears.  Thou  hadst  done  better,  to  my  think- 
ing, to  have  held  back  from  this  venture  of  our 
Sir  William's,  and  suffered  thy  wooing  to  abide 
a  more  convenient  season."  And  the  Major 
searched  my  countenance  with  his  merry  shrewd 
eyes,  right  full  of  wisdom  of  the  worldly  as  well 
as  of  the  godly  sort. 

"  You  touch  me  on  the  raw,"  I  answered,  con- 
fessing to  my  trouble  of  heart.  "  But  I  had 
sworn  to  come  at  this  time;  and  there  was  no 
other  way  that  consisted  with  honour.  It  seemed 
to  me,  moreover,  that  I  might  be  so  fortunate  as 
to  do  her  some  service  during   the   contention 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal  5 

or  thereafter.  Had  I  not  thought  more  of 
this  than  of  her  good-will,  I  had  surely  stayed 
behind." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Major  Ephraim  in  a  voice 
of  encouragement,  "  't  is  an  ancient  and  well- 
accredited  custom  to  woo  a  maid  with  the  sword's 
point ;  and  there  may  yet  be  women  to  commend 
it,  though  it  fits  not  well  with  these  mincing  days. 
And  who  is  the  damsel,  Seth  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Menneval,"  said  I. 

Major  Ephraim  whistled,  and  was  silent. 

**  The  Governor's  niece,"  I  continued. 

"I  know,  I  know!"  exclaimed  the  Major. 
"  This  enterprise  of  ours  will,  without  doubt, 
commend  you  to  her  mightily,  my  boy.  She 
cannot  but  love  you,  if  only  for  the  kindness  we 
will  do  her  uncle!  "  And  without  another  word 
he  turned  again  to  lean  upon  the  bulwarks.  The 
yellow  bubbles  on  the  tide,  as  they  raced  smoothly 
past  the  black  side  of  the  ketch  appeared  to  en- 
gross his  meditation;  and  I  walked  aft  with  a 
very  downcast  spirit.  Never  till  now  had  my 
eyes  been  fully  opened  to  the  loftiness  of  the  ob- 
stacles before  me.  I  had  thought  of  them  as 
barriers  to  be  surmounted  with  some  boldness 


By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 


and  some  firmness,  such  as  I  held  myself  not  alto- 
gether lacking  in ;  but  when  I  minded  me  of 
Diane's  pride  of  race,  I  confess  that  I  felt 
daunted.  For  was  I  not  helping  to  put  a  manner 
of  discredit  upon  her  house  ? 

It  was  by  this  a  little  past  noon  hour.  As  I 
stood  beside  the  wheel  I  must  have  worn  a  black 
countenance,  for  everyone  avoided  me.  The 
ketch  God' s  Mercy  (which  ever  seemed  to  me  a 
strange  name  for  a  battailous  craft)  swung  easily 
at  her  anchor.  A  little  over  by  lay  Sir  William's 
own  ship,  and  in  my  bitter  mood  I  went  nigh  to 
cursing  his  pennon  as  it  flaunted  jauntily  from 
the  mizzen  peak.  Our  stout  commander  had 
one  frigate  and  six  smaller  vessels,  sloops  and 
ketches,  for  this  Acadian  venture  of  his;  and 
they  swung  now  in  ominous  array  before  the 
menaced  ramparts.  On  his  decks  he  had  seven 
hundred  good  men  of  New  England,  of  an  excel- 
lent fervour  to  fight,  to  trade,  to  pray,  or  to 
harry  the  Quakers.  Of  Port  Royal,  the  word 
had  gone  abroad  that  she  was  ill-garrisoned  and 
her  walls  in  a  condition  of  grievous  disrepair.  I 
could  not  doubt  that  we  should  soon  be  masters 
of  the  place.     But  for  me  what  comfort  in  this  ? 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal  7 

In  that  hour  I  saw  all  black,  so  completely 
had  Major  Ephraim's  view  of  the  matter  dashed 
me. 

Whilst  I  was  thus  buried  in  my  gloom  a  mes- 
sage came  aboard  from  the  commander's  ship, 
and  I  found  myself  summoned  to  his  presence. 
Sir  William  Phips  had  already  honoured  me  with 
his  confidence  in  more  than  one  affair  of  import, 
and  he  knew  that  the  French  tongue  was  to  me 
almost  as  that  of  my  own  people.  The  upshot 
was  that  a  half-hour  later  my  boat  thrust  out 
from  the  frigate,  and  as  fast  as  four  good  oars 
could  speed  me  I  made  for  the  long  grey  pier 
beneath  the  ramparts  of  Port  Royal. 

I,  of  all  men  upon  that  expedition,  was  bearing 
to  the  Sieur  de  Menneval  a  peremptory  summons 
to  surrender! 

What  would  come  of  it  all  I  durst  not  think. 
I  had  my  orders,  and  could  but  obey  them  to  the 
best  of  my  power.  I  put  on  a  face  of  iron  as  the 
boat  pulled  in  under  the  dripping  shadow  of 
the  pier.  I  mounted  the  weedy  stairs.  My 
white  flag  of  parley  had  been  marked,  of  course, 
from  the  moment  that  I  put  out  from  the  ship, 
and  a  guard  awaited  me  at  the  stair-head.     Right 


8  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

well  did  I  know  those  white  Bourbon  uniforms, 
grown  familiar  during  my  long  captivity. 

With  all  courtesy  I  was  conducted  up  through 
a  curious  crowd  of  Acadian  villagers, — short, 
swarthy,  gesticulating  men,  and  bright-eyed 
women  whose  faces  looked  out  demurely  from 
their  hoods  of  unbleached  linen.  The  great  gate 
of  the  fort  swung  open  to  me.  I  had  timie  to 
note  how  ruinous  were  the  ramparts.  I  had  time 
to  mark  the  heavy  guns  which  lay  waiting  to  be 
mounted  on  their  carriages.  I  saw  right  well  that 
we  had  come  in  time,  catching  our  adversary 
while  he  was  yet  unready.  Then  I  passed  through 
a  low  doorway  and  a  dark  passage.  A  thick  red 
curtain  lifted,  and  I  stood  before  the  Governor. 

The  Sieur  de  Menneval,  standing  beside  a 
table  covered  with  red  cloth,  faced  me  in  an  at- 
titude of  extreme  haughtiness,  which  was  some- 
what belied,  however,  by  the  fine  courtesy  of  his 
greeting.  He  was  tall, — almost  of  my  own 
inches — but  spare  exceedingly.  His  uniform  of 
fine  white  cloth  was  brave  with  gold  lace,  and  his 
breast  glittered  with  many  a  jewelled  decoration. 
He  was  not  only  a  brave  soldier  and  of  most 
honourable  lineage,  as  I  well  knew,  but  he  was 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal  9 

Diane's  uncle;  and  I  think  that  the  deep  respect 
of  my  obeisance  left  him  nothing  to  complain  of. 
His  dark  and  hawk-like  features  softened  to  a 
marvellous  graciousness,  insomuch  that  I  almost 
forgot  Major  Ephraim's  discouragement. 

When  I  had  delivered  my  harsh  message,  Mon- 
sieur de  Menneval  seemed  no  whit  perturbed 
thereby,  but  smiled  upon  me  with  a  certain  in- 
dulgence which  much  bewildered  me. 

"  Captain  Waldo,"  said  he, — and  smiled  the 
more  as  he  noted  my  astonishment  at  being  called 
by  name, — "  Captain  Waldo  will  hardly,  I  think, 
persuade  himself  that  a  stronghold  like  Port 
Royal  is  to  be  got  for  the  asking  ?  " 

"  Your  Excellency,"  I  replied  gently,  "it  is 
not  for  me  to  have  any  opinion  upon  this  matter. 
I  am  but  a  plain  soldier  obeying  my  orders.  I 
would  to  God  this  duty  had  been  required  of  any 
other  rather  than  of  me.  But  I  had  no  choice.  I 
am  ordered  to  demand  of  your  Excellency  nothing 
less  than  instant  and  unconditional  surrender." 

I  spoke  with  a  sufficient  firmness,  but  in  my 
distress  of  spirit  I  lowered  my  eyes  before  his 
searching  scrutiny.  His  long,  fine  hand,  which 
was  resting  lightly  on  the  red  cloth,  pressed  hard 


lO  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

upon  the  table  at  my  words,  and  I  saw  the  finger- 
nails whiten.  But  his  voice  betrayed  no  anger  as 
he  made  reply,  "  And  if  I  refuse,  what  then  ?  " 

"  The  ships  will  open  fire  at  once,  your  Excel- 
lency," I  answered  in  a  low  voice.  I  could  not 
dream  that  he  would  let  it  come  to  that,  and  the 
place  so  ill-prepared  to  make  resistance. 

The  demand  is  a  most  preposterous  one," 
said  he  coldly.  "  What  can  I  do  but  refuse, 
Captain  Waldo  ? ' ' 

Oh,  sir,"  I  broke  out,  with  a  great  earnest- 
ness, looking  suddenly  into  his  eyes,  and  catching 
a  meaning  there  which  I  could  not  fathom,  "  I 
entreat  you,  do  not  refuse !  I  have  seen  your 
helplessness.  Where  is  your  garrison  ?  Where 
are  your  guns  ?  In  what  state  are  your  defences? 
You  cannot  hold  out  for  one  hour  against  our 
heavy  metal.  But  in  that  hour  what  mischief 
may  not  befall!  For  your  own  sake,  for  the 
sake  of — for  the  sake  of  those  whose  destinies 
you  control,  do  not  push  the  lost  game  to  an 
extremity!  " 

"  You  plead  with  eloquence  in  an  enemy's 
cause,  Captain  Waldo,"  said  he,  with  a  smile. 
"  But  I  will  not  pretend  to  misunderstand  you. 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal  1 1 

I  believe  you  do  me  the  honour  of  wishing  well 
to  my  house,  and  I  trust  much  to  your  good-will. 
I  will  ask  you  to  allow  me  two  hours  for  con- 
sideration before  giving  you  my  answer.  And  in 
the  meantime,  Mademoiselle  de  Menneval " 

But  in  a  desperation  I  interrupted  him.  I 
knew  what  he  had  it  on  his  tongue  to  say.  He 
was  for  giving  me  those  two  hours  with  Diane. 
The  blood  surged  into  my  head  at  the  thought 
of  it,  and  a  sickness  came  about  my  heart  because 
I  must  refuse.  But  I  durst  not  let  him  speak 
the  words. 

"  No!  no!"  I  cried,  putting  out  my  hands. 
"  Do  not  make  it  harder  for  me,  sir,  than  I  can 
bear.  I  perceive  that  you  suspect  the  nature  of 
my  sentiments  towards  Mademoiselle  de  Menne- 
val, for  whose  sake  I  count  life  nothing  save  as  it 
may  be  spent  in  her  service  and  to  her  honour. 
But  no  one  can  know  better  than  you  the  duty 
of  a  soldier.  Whether  you  answer  or  refuse  to 
answer  my  general's  summons,  I  must  return  to 
him  at  once.  There  is  no  room  to  question  as 
to  my  duty  on  this  errand !  ' ' 

De  Menneval  was  silent  for  some  moments, 
pondering.     Whether  he  was  angered  or  not  by 


12  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

my  reply  I  could  not  guess.  His  features  wore  a 
mask  of  courteous  gravity. 

**  I  must  reluctantly  acknowledge  that  you  are 
in  the  right  in  this,"  he  replied,  "  and  that  I  can- 
not take  amiss  your  refusal.  But  this  at  least  I 
can  ask,  this  at  least  I  can  put  upon  your  friend- 
ship (which,  you  see,  I  make  so  bold  as  to  claim 
for  myself) :  that  when  you  return  to  Sir  William 
Phips  with  my  rejection  of  his  demands,  you  re- 
frain from  uncovering  to  him  the  helplessness  of 
our  condition, — for  we  are  helpless,  as  you  say. 
You  see  I  trust  you.  Let  me  tell  you  this 
further:  immediately  on  your  arrival  at  the  pier 
I  sent  agents  of  my  own  to  your  commander, 
offering  to  give  up  the  fort  on  terms  not  incon- 
sistent with  my  own  honour  and  the  importance 
of  this  post.  All  that  this  will  mean  to  me  and 
mine  I  need  not  remind  you.  If,  now,  you 
should  desire  to  do  me  a  great  service,  the  occa- 
sion will  without  doubt  expose  itself  to  you  very 
clearly." 

Whilst  he  spoke  I  was  in  an  anguish.  That  I 
should  hold  my  tongue  a  little, — it  seemed  not 
much  to  ask  of  me ;  yet  how  much  it  might  mean 
to  him  and  to  Diane !     I  was  shaken,  moreover. 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal         13 

by  the  man's  kindness,  by  his  unexpected  favouf- 
ing  of  my  hopes.  Let  me  confess  it,  too,  I  was 
flattered  by  all  his  speech  and  bearing.  This 
was  no  common  man  who  sought  my  aid,  but 
one  whose  power  and  quality  would  command 
reverence  in  any  company.  To  say  him  yea,  to 
do  him  this  great  and  lasting  service,  to  so  prove 
my  fidelity  to  Diane's  interests,  to  win  admit- 
tance, free  and  favoured,  to  her  adored  com- 
panionship, —  why  not  ?  Why  not  ?  implored 
the  eager  heart  within  me.  But  with  a  rush  of 
heat  and  shame  that  set  my  face  a-prickling  to  the 
ears,  I  remembered  that  't  was  a  sheer  treason 
that  he  asked  of  me ;  and  at  that  my  manhood 
came  back  in  some  measure.  I  affected  not  to 
see  his  drift. 

"  Alas,  sir,"  said  I  in  a  pained  voice,  and  look- 
ing upon  the  floor,  "  I  have  no  interest  with  the 
commander  at  all,  that  he  should  put  my  private 
petition  before  the  public  advantage." 

**  You  mistake  me,  Captain  Waldo!"  he  ex- 
claimed, with  a  faint  sharpness  of  irritation  in  his 
tones.  "  I  will  rest  much  indebted  to  you,  be- 
lieve me,  if  your  commander  is  allowed  to  think 
(as  he  doubtless  thinks  by  now)  that  Port  Royal 


14  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

is  in  a  position  for  defence !  That  is  the  whole 
matter!  " 

At  that  I  raised  my  eyes,  and  met  his  with  a 
sorrowful  firmness. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  said  I,  "  there  is  no  one 
who  knows  better  than  you  how  a  man  shall  keep 
his  honour  stainless.  This  that  you  ask  of  me, — 
if  I  were  to  say  yea  to  it,  would  you  hold  my 
honour  stainless  ?  Could  I —  But  you  know 
well  what  it  is  you  ask !  I  will  give  up  all  but 
honour  to  serve  Mademoiselle  de  Menneval.  If 
I  would  give  up  that  for  her,  then  were  I  utterly 
unworthy  to  serve  her  at  all!  " 

De  Menneval  turned,  with  a  stern  gesture  of 
dismissal.  "  Be  assured,"  said  he,  "  that  the 
man  who  stands  in  my  path  this  day,  and  un- 
covers my  weakness  to  my  enemy,  will  be  forever 
after  accounted  the  enemy  of  my  house." 

"  At  least,  sir,"  I  answered,  "  he  will  not  be 
accounted  a  traitor.  I  beg  you  to  tell  Made- 
moiselle de  Menneval  that!'*  And  somewhat 
blindly  I  made  for  the  door. 

Now  it  chanced  that  there  were  many  red  cur- 
tains, all  of  a  like  fashion,  covering  the  wall  of 
that  room.     But  one  curtain    was   lifted   aside, 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal  15 

revealing  a  door.  Down  the  dim  passage  I 
blundered,  in  a  fever  of  pain  and  wrath  and  fierce 
hopelessness.  I  came,  as  was  natural,  to  another 
door.  I  flung  it  open  and  strode  through,  to 
find  myself,  not  in  the  sunlit  square  of  the  fort, 
but  in  a  dim  chamber,  richly  hung  and  furnished. 
I  had  but  time  to  note  that  it  had  the  air  of  a 
lady's  withdrawing-room,  when  the  door  shut 
behind  me  with  a  click. 

I  sprung  and  wrenched  at  it  furiously,  but  the 
lock  had  caught.  Was  it  treachery  or  an  acci- 
dent ?  I  looked  at  the  window.  It  was  small, 
high  up  in  the  wall,  and  heavily  barred.  I  caught 
the  glint  and  shimmering  of  spring's  young  leaf- 
age against  it,  and  wondered  what  could  be  its 
outlook,  for  I  had  seen  no  tree  in  the  fort  yard. 
Perceiving  that  there  was  no  escape  for  me  by 
the  window,  I  turned  in  a  sort  of  desperation  to 
seek  some  weapon  wherewith  to  batter  at  the 
door.  I  turned — and  found  myself  face  to  face 
with  Diane  de  Menneval.  I  was  dumb  with 
amazement,  with  doubt,  with  impotent  wrath  at 
my  position,  with  a  consuming  hunger  of  love  at 
the  sight  of  her. 

Questioning  and  a  sorrowful  reproach  were  in 


1 6  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

her  pale  proud  face ;  and  for  the  moment  I  could 
answer  neither.  I  stood  and  gazed  upon  her, 
and  my  utter  worship  must  have  burned  clearly 
in  my  eyes,  for  her  lips  softened  to  a  faint  smile. 

"  Do  you  come  as  a  friend  or  as  an  enemy  ?  " 
she  asked. 

How  could  I  answer  her  ?  I  threw  myself 
down  at  her  feet,  and  pressed  my  face  into  the 
silken  folds  of  her  gown. 

Diane,"  I  cried  in  a  broken  voice,  "  I  love 
you!     You  are  more  to  me  than  life,  than " 

"  Set',  my  dear  friend,"  quoth  she  softly, 
speaking  in  English  which  I  had  taught  her,  and 
tripping  adorably  on  the  last  letter  of  my  name, 
of  which  her  tongue  could  never  win  the  mastery, 
"  will  you  not  shelter  us  now- against  your  harsh 
and  grasping  general  ?  He  knows  not  the  court- 
esies due  to  a  De  Menneval.  And  his  heart  is  as 
rough  as  his  own  granite  hills." 

It  seemed  more  than  my  heart  could  endure,  to 
say  no  to  this ;  but  gathering  all  my  resolution  I 
forced  myself  to  continue,  as  if  she  had  not  in- 
terrupted me.  My  voice  was  so  shaken  that  I 
scarce  formed  the  words  articulately. 

*  *  more  than  my  life, ' '  I  went  on,  '  *  more 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal  17 

than  my  own  soul,  beyond  measure,  more  than 
all  else  but  honour!  " 

"  I  heard  your  conversation  with  my  uncle," 
said  she  slowly.  "  Never  will  he  forgive  you  or 
forget  to  curse  you,  if  you  lift  a  hand  to  balk  him 
in  this  matter.  And  I,  Set',  I  am  a  soldier's 
daughter.  I  have  learned  the  lesson  of  obedi- 
ence.    I  will  obey  my  uncle. " 

I  arose  and  stood  before  her,  and  looked  into 
her  grave  eyes.  There  was  all  my  world,  and  I 
was  throwing  it  away  for  this  phantom,  this 
bubble  that  a  breath  might  shatter,  this  thing 
called  "  honour  "!  My  heart  was  like  lead,  but 
I  spoke  steadily. 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  this  is  my  farewell  to  hope, 
to  all  that  might  have  made  this  life  a  paradise. 
My  love  for  you,  Diane,  is  of  such  a  quality  that 
never  will  I  dishonour  you  with  the  love  of  a 
traitor.  The  lips,  dear,  which  have  touched 
yours  will  not  betray  a  trust.  You  may  hate 
me  forever,  but  you  shall  not  blush  to  have  once 
loved  me.  Give  me  the  key  "  (for  I  now  per- 
ceived for  the  first  time  that  she  was  holding  a 
key  in  her  hand),  "  give  me  the  key,  I  implore 
you,  and  let  me  go  quickly!  " 


1 8  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

At  this,  as  once  before  in  her  uncle's  glance,  I 
caught  in  her  eyes  a  look  which  I  could  not 
understand.     But  it  was  gone  on  the  instant. 

"  No,  Set*,"  she  replied  very  gently,  "  I  will 
not  give  you  the  key." 

As  I  realised  what  this  meant,  I  could  not  re- 
frain from  a  cry  at  the  new  torment  thrust  upon 
me. 

"No!  no!  you  do  not  mean  it,  Diane!"  I 
pleaded.  "  Give  me  the  key,  I  adjure  you!  Be 
merciful!  "  And  in  the  passion  of  my  entreaty 
I  pressed  closer  to  her  side. 

"  I  will  not!  "  she  answered,  with  something 
of  arrogant  firmness  in  her  voice;  and,  lightly 
avoiding  me,  she  drew  aside  nearer  to  the  window. 

**  Then,"  said  I,  "  I  have  no  choice,  Diane. 
I  am  only  a  soldier  on  duty.  I  must  take  the 
key." 

At  that  she  turned  upon  me,  her  great  eyes  all 
ablaze  with  indignation. 

What  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  you  would 
dare — "  Then  something  in  my  look  seemed 
to  convince  her  that  I  meant  what  I  said,  and 
her  face  changed  on  the  instant.  She  looked 
this  way  and  that,  and  made  as  if  to  thrust  the 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal  19 

key  into  her  bosom, — in  which  sanctuary  it  must 
have  been  safe  indeed, — and  I  darted  forward  to 
prevent  her.  But  ere  I  could  grasp  her  arm  she 
had  changed  her  purpose,  and  with  a  swift, 
vehement  gesture  she  hurled  the  key  through  the 
high  window. 

"  There!  "  she  cried,  facing  me  with  a  defiance 
that  hung  on  the  verge  of  tears.  "  You  shall  not 
bring  down  upon  your  head  my  uncle's  curse! 
And — and  " — she  added  softly,  with  the  little 
catching  of  her  breath  which  I  knew  and  loved 
so  well — "  neither  need  you  do  any  dishonour  to 
my  love,  Set*."  She  came  a  step  nearer  to  me, 
and  held  out  both  white  hands. 

The  blood  surged  back  upon  my  heart  so  sud- 
denly that  for  an  instant  I  was  dizzied,  and  as  I 
took  her  hands  I  steadied  myself  by  them.  It 
was  ever  so  little,  but  she  understood  by  it  more 
than  a  whole  book  of  words  could  have  made 
plain.  She  laughed,  with  a  kind  and  tender 
merriment,  and  made  as  if  to  hold  me  up, — me, 
who  overtopped  her  queenly  head  by  a  good 
seven  inches.  I  thought  no  more  of  the  price 
which  my  general  might  have  to  pay  for  posses- 
sion of  the  ramparts  of  Port  Royal.     I  cared  no 


20  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

whit  whether  I  had  been  tricked  or  not,  but 
rather  if  I  had,  thanked  God  for  it.  I  felt  my- 
self absolved  from  all  the  burden  of  the  affair.  I 
was  Diane's  prisoner,  and  no  act  of  mine  could 
set  me  free!  I  think  I  may  even  say,  without 
vanity,  that  in  praising  my  lady's  wit  and  re- 
source, which  had  so  delivered  me  unstained 
from  an  intolerable  situation,  my  passion  and  my 
gratitude  enabled  me  to  achieve  some  small 
measure  of  eloquence.  The  time  in  that  dim 
chamber  sped  by  with  no  great  count  of  it  taken, 
till  on  a  sudden  (an  hour,  perhaps,  or  two,  having 
elapsed)  there  came  a  shrill  whistle  under  the 
window. 

Diane  sprang  up,  and  thrust  her  hand  into  a 
niche  above  the  fireplace.  Turning  to  me  with 
eyes  of  dancing  mischief,  she  held  out  a  key. 

"  There  are  two  keys  to  yon  door!  "  she 
laughed.  "  This  one  was  within  your  reach  all 
the  time.  You  are  free  now,  Set'.  Port  Royal 
has  surrendered  upon  very  honourable  terms!  " 

But  I  refused  to  rise. 

"  I  am  no  longer  in  haste,  then,  dear  heart," 
said  I.  "  But  you,  as  a  punishment  for  having 
dealt  so  high-handedly  with  the  sacred  person  of 


The  Ramparts  of  Port  Royal         21 

a  herald,  are  now  under  the  necessity  of  bearing 
witness  for  me  before  Sir  William ! ' ' 

"  I  will  tell  him,"  quoth  she,  with  a  sweet 
petulance,  "  that  you  value  honour  before  my 
love!  And  if  he  be  a  true  lover,  or  ever  have 
been,  I  swear  he  will  not  believe  the  monstrous 
tale!" 


The  Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant 
Han  worthy 

Being  Leaves  from  his  Memoirs,  Setting  forth 
Certain  Adventures  which  Befell  him  on 
Thanksgiving  Day 

AS  the  sun,  dropping  through  a  raw  and  fire- 
edged  slit  in  the  cloud,  sank  behind  South 
Mountain,  some  three  miles  off  to  my  right,  I 
snuggled  my  head  deeper  into  the  fold  of  my 
thick  cloak,  and  spurred  my  good  sorrel  to  a  trot. 
This  wind,  drawing  down  the  long  valley  of 
the  Port  Royal  stream,  had  a  bleaker  unfriendli- 
ness than  even  the  bleak  east  wind  which  I  im- 
agined whistling  at  this  moment  over  my  own  hill 
pastures  of  Salem.  Across  the  harsh,  salty  smells 
that  blew  in  gusts  from  the  half-uncovered  mud- 
flats of  the  river,  my  memory  of  old  Thanks- 
givings at  home  called  up  most  rich  and  tender 
savours  of  roast  goose,  till  an  appetite  of  huge 
anticipation  began  to  riot  beneath  my  waistcoat. 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy     23 

Should  I  be  in  time  ?  For  my  sake  the  hour 
had  been  set  late,  far  beyond  the  ordinary;  but 
it  was  even  now  near,  and  the  roofs  of  Port  Royal 
were  yet  a  good  six  miles  distant.  With  dejec- 
tion I  remembered  the  Major's  parting  words: 

"  Punctuality,  remember!  Be  on  hand  at  the 
minute!  Not  even  for  you,  Mark,  my  boy,  shall 
such  a  goose  as  Tamin  has  brought  in  be  suffered 
to  spoil  by  waiting." 

Though  the  good  sorrel  was  tired,  and  owed 
me  naught  on  that  day's  journeying,  I  pushed 
him  to  his  utmost.  I  could  not  contemplate 
with  equanimity  the  loss  of  such  a  dinner  as 
might  make  me  forget  my  long  months  of 
Acadian  exile. 

It  was  five  months  since  I  had  left  Salem, 
coming  to  Acadia  with  the  Boston  expedition 
for  the  capture  of  Port  Royal.  In  the  taking  of 
it  there  had  been  some  spirit,  some  diversion,  in 
truth ;  but  the  holding  of  it  was  a  daily-growing 
monotony.  The  Acadians  seemed  passably  con- 
tent with  their  new  masters.  No  peril  menaced 
the  green-sodded  ramparts  of  our  prize;  the 
townsfolk  trafficked  in  an  established  peace,  sell- 
ing us  their  fish  and  flax ;  and,  in  the  dearth  of 


24  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

matters  more  stirring  for  discussion,  the  Major's 
Thanksgiving  dinner  had  been  for  days  a  theme 
of  grave  import. 

I  thought  of  the  gravity  with  which  the  Major, 
on  Monday  of  the  preceding  week,  had  announced 
his  purpose.  With  his  little  council  of  five  offi- 
cers, among  whom  I  had  the  honour  to  be  his 
secretary  and  aide,  he  had  been  considering  cer- 
tain weighty  matters  of  his  government,  when 
suddenly,  swerving  from  questions  of  toll  and 
tax,  his  voice  took  on  a  deeper  tone,  and  he 
said: 

"  Gentlemen,  since  duty  dooms  us  to  this 
exile,  even  upon  the  approaching  day  of  Thanks- 
giving, I  have  resolved  that  New  England  shall, 
in  a  sense,  upon  that  day,  be  brought  to  us!  " 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  approbation 
shone  in  our  faces. 

"  These  good  people  of  Acadia,"  he  went  on, 
"  do  not  observe  our  feast,  but  I  have  noted  that 
they  can  supply  the  wherewithal  for  its  proper 
observance.  Their  ducks  and  geese  feed  fat 
upon  these  marshes.  Their  gardens  are  in- 
structed in  the  growth  of  sage  and  onions.  They 
are  not  unskilled  in  the  subtleties  of  apple  sauce ; 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy     25 

and  I  have  found  pumpkins!  You  observe  the 
possibilities!  Well,  I  may  add  that  our  good 
Josephte,  who  has  ruled  our  kitchen  so  capably 
these  months  past,  has  acquired,  with  suggestions 
from  myself,  the  art  of  making  such  a  pumpkin 
pie  as  might  pass  for  the  product  of  Duxbury  or 
Dedham."     (The  Major  hailed  from  Duxbury.) 

Oh,  her  pies  will  pass,  I  assure  you!  But 
mince  I  have  not  suffered  her  to  essay,  for  failure 
there,  you  will  agree,  would  be  a  desecration !  " 

The  memory  of  this  speech  appealed  now  most 
potently  to  my  imagination.  The  Major's  face, 
too,  as  he  leaned  forward  over  the  council  table 
to  note  the  effect  of  his  words,  came  pleasantly 
before  me.  It  was  a  strange  face,  but  I  loved  it 
well.  The  forehead,  broad,  low-arched,  and  bald 
far  back  to  the  very  crown  of  the  skull,  was 
fenced,  as  it  were,  with  a  stiff,  forward  bristling 
fringe  of  red  hair,  recalcitrant  to  the  brush.  The 
eyes,  small  but  deeply  clear,  beamed  sweet 
humour;  but  the  mouth,  little  better  than  a  long 
crevice  across  the  bleak  and  stony  promontory  of 
his  chin,  was  such  as  men  make  haste  to  concili- 
ate. The  nose,  large  and  much  awry,  gave  me 
ever  a  notion  that  the  rest  of  the  face  had  been 


26  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

finished  earlier,  and  this  feature  added  afterward, 
lavishly  but  hastily,  in  the  dark. 

It  came  upon  me  now,  as  I  mused,  that  herein 
lay  the  incongruity  which  ever  sat  upon  our  good 
Major's  face — this  nose,  a  ceaseless  entertainment 
to  the  tolerantly  mirthful  eyes,  was  a  ceaseless 
affront  to  the  uncompromising  mouth.  Thence 
conflict  perennial  in  the  Major's  countenance! 

Pleased  at  this  whimsical  solution  of  an  ancient 
enigma,  I  chuckled  aloud.  The  patient  sorrel 
cocked  his  ears  at  the  sound,  and  cheerily  bet- 
tered his  pace.  He  doubtless  reasoned  that,  if 
his  master  were  pleased,  some  good  thing  for 
both  must  be  close  at  hand. 

I  looked  carefully  about  me.  There,  behind  a 
screen  of  fir  trees,  a  stone's  throw  back  from  the 
road,  rose  three  sharp  gables  in  a  row.  It  was 
the  place  of  the  Sieur  de  Belleisle,  a  very  great 
man  among  the  Acadians.  I  perceived  that,  in 
my  musings  of  Thanksgiving  meats  and  the 
Major's  nose,  I  had  beguiled  a  good  mile  of  the 
journey.  My  appetite  was  furious,  but  my 
humour  was  mending. 

"  The  Major  will  wait  a  half-hour  for  me!  "  I 
said  confidently,  in  my  heart. 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy     27 

As  I  passed  the  wide-open  gate  of  the  De 
Belleisle  place,  the  sorrel  swerved  obstinately  to 
enter,  as  if  here,  in  his  opinion,  were  the  fitting 
termination  to  his  journey.  Reining  him  back 
to  the  road,  I  could  not  but  laugh  again,  for  I 
recalled  another  word  of  the  Major's  to  me  as  I 
was  setting  out  on  my  journey. 

"  Better  not  stop  at  the  De  Belleisle  place 
on  your  way,"  he  had  said,  his  eyes  twinkling 
askance  over  the  biased  nose;  "  if  you  do  you 
will  be  sure  to  miss  the  goose!  " 

"  Why,  sir  ?  "  I  had  inquired  with  interest. 

"  There  is  a  witch  there !  "  And  he  had  turned 
away  into  the  barracks,  very  stiff  and  soldierly  in 
his  well-kept  uniform.  Had  he  been  a  Saleni 
man,  he  would  not  have  spoken  so  lightly  of 
witches. 

I  had  heard  of  Mademoiselle  de  Belleisle,  but  I 
had  never  seen  her.  She  had  been  in  Quebec, 
and  was  but  lately  returned  to  Acadia  with  her 
uncle.  I  had  heard  of  her  strange  beauty,  of 
her  mocking  gayety,  the  warmth  of  her  great 
eyes,  the  illimitable  coldness  of  her  heart. 

Now,  as  I  passed  her  uncle's  gates,  a  sense  of 
the  wonder  and  the  nearness  of  her  beauty  came 


28  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

upon  me  in  a  fashion  that  made  me  marvel.  My 
interest  in  the  Major's  dinner  went  out  Hke  a 
snuffed  candle,  so  inconsistent  an  organ  is  the 
stomach  of  a  man  who  has  brains  and  imagina- 
tion. The  fat  goose,  at  that  moment  being  dis- 
creetly basted  at  Port  Royal,  was  forgotten,  just 
because  I  had  apprehended  that  a  woman's  eyes 
were  beautiful.  I  regretted  that  I  had  not  let 
my  sorrel  carry  me  through  the  gate.  But  the 
notion  of  turning  back  was  not  for  a  moment  en- 
tertained. Never  have  I  accounted  myself  a 
candidate  for  the  fellowship  of  Lot's  wife. 

Then  of  a  sudden  the  face  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Belleisle  flashed  upon  the  eyes  of  my  soul.  Her 
face — it  could  be  none  other;  yet  never,  as  I 
have  already  said,  had  I  seen  the  maiden ;  and 
never  had  she  been  described  to  me,  save  in  a 
general  shining  confusion  of  mobile  features  and 
unfathomable  eyes.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  to 
doubt  that  the  face  which  now  so  curiously 
crossed  my  brain  could  be  any  face  but  hers ;  and 
I  found  myself  muttering : 

"  Ren^e  de  Belleisle.  It  is  a  name  of  music, 
very  fitting  to  so  fair  a  face!  " 

Then  I  remembered  that,   to  the  best  of  my 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Han  worthy     29 

knowledge,  I  had  never  been  told  her  name  was 
Ren^e ! 

"  Fool!  "  I  snapped  aloud,  pulling  myself  to- 
gether and  sitting  erect  in  the  saddle.  "  Fool! 
These  are  the  hallucinations  of  the  fasting!  Her 
name  is  most  like  to  be  Ninette,  Babette,  Lisette, 
or  such  light  nonsense.  Renee,  indeed!  Why 
should  I  think  of  that  for  a  name !  Let  me  re- 
turn to  thoughts  of  the  Major's  goose,  well  stuffed 
with  sage  and  onions !  ' ' 

But  there  was  a  witchcraft  in  the  air,  and  do 
what  I  would  my  thoughts  flew  wild,  dispersed 
like  a  covey  of  birds.  I  noted  now  particularly 
— though  why  it  was  matter  for  particular  notice 
I  could  not  have  told — that  I  had  come  to  the 
limit  of  the  thick  spruce  hedge  which  fronted  the 
garden  of  the  De  Belleisle  place.  Beyond  this 
limit  I  passed  with  a  dragging,  incomprehensible 
reluctance,  and  I  perceived,  to  my  astonishment, 
that  my  hand  upon  the  rein  had  brought  the 
good  sorrel  to  a  stop. 

As  if  to  give  me  a  reason  for  my  stopping,  pat 
upon  the  moment  came  a  sharp  cry  of  distress 
from  behind  the  covert  of  the  hedge.  It  was 
not  loud,  but  it  was  imperative, 


30  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  Who  's  there  ?  What  's  the  matter  ?  "  I 
demanded  brusquely. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  thrilled  by  the 
passing  phantom  of  a  sob.  Then  came  a  voice, 
so  close  that  I  started : 

I  am  afraid,  monsieur,  that  it  is  very  much 
that  I  need  your  help.  I  fear  it  is  that  I  have 
sprained  my  poor  ankle,  for  I  have  not  the  power 
to  at  all  stand  up." 

The  voice  was  very  low  and  quiet,  but  pene- 
tratingly clear.  The  quaintly  accented  and 
foreignly  ordered  syllables  seemed  to  me  the 
sweetest  music  I  had  ever  heard.  The  blood 
throbbed  up  into  my  temples. 

"  I  am  coming,  mademoiselle!  "  I  cried,  a  sort 
of  thickness  in  my  tones;  and  whirling  my  sorrel 
I  put  him  at  a  fast  gallop  back  to  the  gate. 

Along  the  hedge  just  within  ran  a  broad  path. 
In  but  a  handful  of  seconds,  so  to  speak,  I  had 
flung  myself  from  the  saddle  and  was  standing 
beside  a  girl  whose  downcast,  half-averted  face 
made  me  think  of  the  flower  of  a  white  lily.  A 
heavy  lock  of  dark  hair  had  fallen  far  forward, 
hiding  half  the  rondure  of  her  cheek  and  chin. 
She  was  dressed  all  in  black,  save  for  a  scarf  of 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy     31 

orange-coloured  silk  flung  carelessly  about  her 
shoulders.  She  sat  in  an  attitude  of  tense  con- 
straint, as  if  resolved  upon  no  weak  feminine 
outcry ;  and  with  both  white  hands  she  clasped  a 
slippered  foot  of  exceeding  smallness  and  grace, 
at  glimpse  of  which  the  old  saw  came  across  my 
memory: 

"  The  littlest  foot  may  be  heaviest  on  a  man's 
neck!" 

"  Do  you  think,  mademoiselle,  you  could  walk 
with  my  assistance  ?  "  I  inquired,  bending  over 
her,  cap  in  hand. 

She  lifted  her  face,  she  lifted  her  drooping 
white  lids,  and  gave  me  one  darkly  brilliant  look. 
Eyes  so  large,  so  enigmatic,  so  mysteriously 
deep,  I  had  never  before  imagined.  The  look 
dropped  again  upon  the  moment;  but  in  that 
moment  I  experienced  a  swift  and  breathless 
sinking  of  the  heart,  and  it  seemed  that  life 
rushed  by  me  dizzily.  The  sensation  was  incom- 
prehensible to  me  then;  but  afterward  I  knew 
that  it  was  a  sensation  very  proper  to  one  falling 
a  great  depth ;  for  in  that  moment  my  spirit  fell 
into  the  deeps  of  her  eyes.  After  a  little  hesita- 
tion, she  gave  me  her  hand  and  tried  to  rise ;  but 


32  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

I  took  her  gently  by  the  arms  and  lifted  her. 
For  an  instant  so  she  stood,  leaning  upon  me, 
then  she  sank  to  the  ground  again  with  a  catching 
of  the  breath. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  no  use,  monsieur!  "  she  said, 
speaking  now  in  French,  as  I  had  addressed  her 
in  that  tongue.  "  It  hurts  too  much.  Perhaps 
— though  I  am  afraid  I  am  terribly  heavy — you 
could  lift  me  into  the  saddle,  and  in  that  way, 
monsieur,  you  could  get  me  to  the  house!  " 

How  had  I  deserved  that  Fate  should  so  favour 
me  ?  The  blood  hummed  in  my  ears,  and  I  think 
a  foolish  grin  of  ecstasy  came  upon  my  face.  But 
I  managed  to  stammer:  "  Permit  me,  then, 
mademoiselle!"  and,  stooping  low,  I  lifted  her 
in  my  arms  with  reverent  care.  I  carried  her  as 
if  she  were  a  child.  In  truth,  she  was  no  great 
weight  to  carry;  for  among  women  of  English 
blood  she  would  have  been  accounted  small,  and 
her  body  was  of  a  very  slender,  delicate  mould, 
girlish,  but  not  thin. 

I  lifted  her,  but  I  did  not  put  her  into  the  saddle. 
Whistling  the  horse  to  follow  me,  which  he  did  at 
the  heel,  like  a  dog,  with  his  nose  down,  I  strode 
up  a  narrow  path  which  led  direct  to  the  house. 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy     33 

"  But — but,  monsieur!  "  she  exclaimed  in  a 
voice  of  surprise  and  protest,  "  you  are  not  going 
to  try  to  carry  me  all  that  distance.  Indeed,  you 
must  not.    Put  me  on  the  horse's  back,  please!  " 

This  last  was  spoken  with  a  touch  of  imperious- 
ness — quite  lost  upon  me ! 

"  You  must,  please!  And  you  can  hold  me 
on!  "  she  continued,  less  assuredly. 

"No,  mademoiselle,"  said  I;  "this,  believe 
me,  is  the  only  way.  Suffering  so,  you  could 
not  sit  in  the  saddle.  And  the  jolting  would 
hurt  you.  For  the  moment,  I  am  your  physician, 
and  you  must  obey.  It  is  only  for  a  minute. 
See,  we  are  almost  there — unfortunately!"  I 
added  in  my  heart. 

She  made  no  answer;  and  I  wondered  uneasily 
if  she  were  vexed  at  my  positive  air.  But  no, 
she  was  not  vexed,  for  presently  she  said : 

"  But  how  strong  you  are,  monsieur!  " 

The  simple,  unaffected  admiration  in  her  words 
thrilled  me. 

"  If  I  am  strong,  mademoiselle,"  said  I,  "  the 
present  enchanted  enterprise  were  no  proof  of  it. 
A  flower,  a  dream,  and  a  prayer  make  no  great 
weight  to  carry !  ' ' 


34  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  Oh,  monsieur!  "  she  said  rebukingly,  "  I  had 
heard  you  English  were  rough  and  direct  of 
speech;  but  no  Frenchman  dare  flatter  me  so 
extravagantly  as  that!  " 

I  cannot  flatter  at  all,  mademoiselle.  But  I 
can  tell  merely  some  poor  fragments  of  the  truth, 
as  my  own  heart  sees  it !  "  I  rejoined  with  dogged 
earnestness. 

At  this  she  kept  silence.  Her  wit  was  accus- 
tomed to  skilled  fence.  I  guessed  that  my  sud- 
den plainness  perplexed  her.  She  kept  her  eyes 
cast  down.  Wonderful  to  me  were  those  long 
lashes  sweeping  the  clear  pallor  of  her  skin. 

With  one  hand  I  flung  open  the  door.  Into  a 
spacious  hall  I  stepped,  and  closed  the  door  be- 
hind me — to  the  disappointment  of  my  faithful 
sorrel,  who  seemed  ready  to  follow  me  in !  No 
candles  were  lit ;  but  from  a  large  room  upon  my 
right  came  the  red  flicker  of  a  fire  upon  the 
hearth.     I  paused  irresolutely  on  the  threshold. 

"  In  there,  if  you  please,  monsieur,"  said 
mademoiselle.  "  You  may  put  me  on  the  divan 
in  the  corner." 

I  set  her  down  with  a  slow,  and,  I  fear,  too 
obvious  reluctance.    Then  I  arranged  the  cushions 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy     35 

that  she  might  lie  at  ease.  This  done,  I  paused 
beside  the  couch,  wavering.  What  excuse  had  I 
to  stay  longer  ?  Plainly,  I  must  make  my  adieu. 
But  she  did  not  help  me  to  go.  She  raised  her 
eyes  to  mine  for  the  least  part  of  a  moment,  and 
said  gratefully : 

'*  How  kind  you  are,  monsieur!  I  feel  better 
already ! ' ' 

"  But  your  ankle  must  be  bathed  at  once,  or 
bandaged !  Something  must  be  done  for  it  at 
once!"  I  exclaimed.  "Whom  shall  I  call  to 
attend  you,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  there  is  no  one,  monsieur!  "  she 
said  very  sweetly,  as  if  the  situation  were  the 
most  usual  in  the  world.  "  But,  truly,  my  ankle 
needs  no  attendance  at  all.  I  could  not  bear  to 
have  it  touched — at  least  yet.  It  needs  only 
that  I  should  lie  quite  still  for  the  present!  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  mademoiselle,  that  you 
are  all  alone  in  this  house  ?  "  I  cried  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"Why,  it  is  nothing!"  she  replied.  "  My 
uncle,  with  his  guest,  Captain  Duchesne,  and 
with  our  two  men,  has  gone  away — shooting,  not 
to  be  back  before  midnight.     The  maids,  Lize 


36  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

and  Susette,  I  have  foolishly  allowed  to  go  and 
visit  friends  down  the  valley  for  an  hour  or  two. 
But  I  am  not  at  all  afraid  to  be  alone!  " 

"  It  is  out  of  the  question,  mademoiselle,"  said 
I,  with  an  air  of  virtuous  decision  (my  heart  the 
while  thumping  mightily),  "  that  you  should  be 
left  alone !  If  you  will  excuse  me  for  a  moment, 
I  will  go  and  stand  my  beast  out  of  the  wind! 
He  has  served  me  faithfully  to-day,  and  I  must 
not  forget  him." 

"  Since  you  are  so  decided,  monsieur,  I  will 
not    try    to   dissuade   you,"    said    she   smiling. 

But  you  are  undertaking  a  stay  of  perhaps 
some  hours,  so  you  must  stand  the  good  beast  in 
the  stables,  and  bait  him.  May  I  stay  alone  so 
long?" 

At  this  there  was  a  laughter  about  her  mouth, 
triumphant  and  mysterious.  It  confused  me, 
and  I  retired  without  reply. 

The  sorrel,  awaiting  impatiently,  whinnied  at 
my  approach.  I  led  him  around  to  the  back  of 
the  many-gabled  house,  and  found  the  barns,  a 
little  village  in  themselves.  The  horse-stalls 
were  all  empty,  whereat  I  might  have  wondered 
had  my  brain  not  been  dazed  with  the  vision  of 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Han  worthy     37 

mademoiselle's  eyes.  I  found  oats  for  the  horse, 
and  hay  and  a  blanket,  yet  moved  the  while  as 
one  in  a  dream.  Then  I  made  haste  back  to  the 
firelit  room. 

Mademoiselle  apparently  had  not  stirred  from 
her  cushions.  She  did  not  look  up  as  I  entered, 
but  she  spoke  at  once. 

"  I  very  well  know,  monsieur,  what  you  are 
sacrificing  for  me,"  she  murmured  musingly. 
"It  is  wonderful  to  me  that  an  Englishman 
should  give  up  a  dinner  for  a  woman!  Your 
brother  ofificers  will  miss  you  sorely  at  their 
Thanksgiving  feast ;  and  me,  I  know,  they  never, 
never,  will  forgive!  " 

"  How  did  you  know,"  I  asked  in  astonish- 
ment, "  that  we  were  having  a  Thanksgiving 
dinner  at  Port  Royal  to-night  ?  " 

"  All  the  master's  doings  are  of  consequence 
to  the  slave !  The  conqueror  sits  in  a  fierce  light, 
Lieutenant  Hanworthy,"  she  said,  deliciously 
stumbling  at  my  name,  and  turning,  as  she  spoke 
it,  the  full  glory  of  her  eyes  upon  my  face. 

*'  You  know  my  name  too  ?  But  how,  ma- 
demoiselle ? "  I  stammered,  amazement  making 
my  own  eyes  wide. 


38  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  Oh,  I  am  a  kind  of  witch!"  she  laughed 
merrily.  "  I  know  all  about  you,  and  I  have 
seen  you  before,  Lieutenant  Hanworthy!  Have 
you  not  seen  me — a  glimpse  of  me — once,  in  Port 
Royal?     Think!" 

No,     never,     mademoiselle,     save     in     my 
dreams!"  I  declared  boldly. 

A  slight  flush  crept  up  into  her  pale  face — or 
was  it  the  firelight  ? 

"  Monsieur —  "  she  began. 

"Mademoiselle — "  said  I,  patiently  expect- 
ing a  rebuke. 

"  Being  an  Englishman,  and  surely  hungry, 
you  must  eat!  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle,"  I  assented  very  cheer- 
fully, as  I  should  have  done  to  any  proposition 
that  she  might  have  made,  save  one — that  I 
should  leave  her. 

"  Please  go  into  the  next  room  and  light  the 
candles.  Then  you  may  help  me  in  there  also. 
It  is  the  dining-room.  On  the  buffet  you  will 
find  some  wine  of  Bordeaux  which  is  good,  if  my 
good  uncle  be  not  deceived ;  and  some  cakes  of 
the  country ;  and  a  pasty  which  your  politeness, 
monsieur,   shall  swear  to  be    unsurpassable,   for 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy     39 

my  own  hands  made  it.     You  shall  have  your 
Thanksgiving  dinner,  but  translated  into  French ! " 

"  No,  mademoiselle  ;  rather  translated,  like 
Elijah,  into  Heaven!"  I  cried  extravagantly, 
springing  up  in  a  kind  of  intoxication  to  do  her 
bidding. 

The  candles  lighted,  I  found  the  dining-room, 
a  large,  low-ceiled  chamber,  with  walls  of  dark 
oak,  a  long  table  in  the  centre,  and  all  one  side 
occupied  by  a  buffet  which  bore  a  lavish  profu- 
sion of  wines  and  viands.  The  pasty,  fresh-cut 
and  sweet-smelling,  I  set  upon  the  table,  and  a 
dish  of  Acadian  cakes — a  kind  of  sweet  dough 
fried  in  lard  and  rolled  in  maple  sugar,  which  I 
liked.  Then,  pulling  a  couch  from  the  wall  to 
the  table,  I  went  to  get  my  hostess. 

I  can  walk  now,  monsieur!"  she  said,  giving 
me  her  hand. 

I  ignored  it. 

"  One  step  now,  and  you  may  be  helpless  for 
weeks  !  It  is  impossible,  mademoiselle,  that 
such  a  hurt  should  be  so  soon  recovered!  "  said  I 
decisively;  and  before  she  could  find  words  of 
effective  protest  I  had  carried  her  to  the  couch  in 
the  dining-room.      Her  face  flushed  this  time 


40  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

most  unmistakably,  and  she  bit  her  Hps — but 
whether  in  amusement  or  in  anger  I  could  not 
tell. 

"  Allow  me  to  give  you  a  glass  of  wine,  made- 
moiselle! "  said  I,  pouring  and  presenting  it. 

I  never  touch  it,  monsieur,"  said  she,  lightly 
waving  the  glass  aside. 

"  Then  I  do  not  want  it,"  I  exclaimed,  replac- 
ing the  decanter  on  the  buffet.  "  But  hungry  I 
am,  strange  as  it  may  seem.  I  have  not  eaten 
since  breakfast." 

"  I  pray  you  make  a  good  meal,  monsieur," 
she  said  gently. 

I  dug  from  the  delectable  depths  of  the  pasty 
a  plump  pigeon-breast  for  her.  She  picked  at  it, 
while  I  set  myself  vigorously  to  break  my  long 
fast.  But  eating,  for  me,  then,  was  a  business 
to  be  got  through  with.  I  scarce  knew  what  I 
ate,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  had  enough.  I 
turned  my  chair  so  as  to  face  her  squarely.  She 
was  looking  at  me  through  the  fringe  of  her 
lashes,  but  dropped  her  gaze  at  once,  and  began 
a  frowning  scrutiny  of  her  hands,  as  if  displeased 
at  their  snowy  slenderness. 

"  Thanks,  mademoiselle,"  said  I  slowly,  "  for 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy     41 

dropping  your  eyes.  I  am  thus  enabled  to  observe, 
not  utterly  blinded,  the  rest  of  your  beauty." 

"  As  I  suppose  you  will  never  see  my  face 
again,  monsieur,"  said  she,  "  I  am  flattered  that 
you  should  be  at  such  pains  to  note  and  remem- 
ber my  poor  features. 

"  I  will  surely  see  your  face  again,  mademoi- 
selle!" I  said  very  quietly,  but  through  set 
teeth.  At  the  passion  which  crept  into  my  voice 
her  eyelids  fluttered ;  but  she  did  not  look  up. 

"  You  do  not  even  know  my  name!  "  said  she. 

"  I  have  never  heard  it!  "  I  assented. 

"  I  am  Mademoiselle  de  Belleisle." 

"  Your  name  is — Ren^e!  "  said  I. 

She  opened  her  eyes  widely  upon  me,  and  my 
veins  tingled  under  the  look. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  came  into  my  heart  that  it  was  Ren6e," 
said  I,  "  when  I  was  riding  past,  just  before  you 
called  me!  " 

Was  it  joy  sent  that  warm  wave  over  her  face 
and  neck  ?  It  left  her  all  the  paler  in  a  moment. 
I  sat  and  looked  at  her,  and  for  some  minutes  no 
word  was  said.  The  silence  was  big  with  wonder 
and  destiny. 


42  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

Suddenly  she  flushed  again  and  sat  up  from 
her  cushions. 

"  Stop,  monsieur!  "  she  cried,  a  kind  of  des- 
peration in  her  voice.  "  Do  not  look  at  me  so! 
I  know  what  you  are  thinking  of.  You  are 
thinking  of  me!     You  must  not!" 

"  I  could  never  deceive  you,"  I  said  very 
slowly.     "  I  was  thinking  of  you!  " 

"  But  I  can  deceive  you!"  she  cried,  with 
something  like  a  sob.  "  I  have  deceived  you  !  " 
she  added.  And,  springing  to  her  feet,  she  ran 
across  the  room  and  back,  lightly  as  a  blown  leaf. 

I  was  dumbfounded. 

"  But  what—  "  I  began. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  she  interrupted.  "  It 
means  that  I  wanted  you  here— to  keep  you  here 
— I  could  think  of  no  other  way.  Oh,  do  not 
think  me  all  unmaidenly,  monsieur!  But  a  great 
danger,  a  terrible  danger,  threatened  you  on  the 
road  to  Port  Royal!  I  had  to  save  you.  And 
there  was  no  other  way!  " 

"  What  danger  ?  "  I  asked,  suddenly  suspect- 
ing. "  If  danger  for  me,  then  danger  for  my 
comrades  ?  I  must  go  at  once.  Have  you  be- 
trayed me,  mademoiselle  ? " 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy     43 

"  Oh,  do  not  go.  It  can  do  no  good.  It 
could  do  no  good.  Wait.  It  was  already  too 
late.  I  will  explain."  And  she  clung  so  firmly 
to  my  arm  that  I  could  not,  without  violence, 
undo  the  tense  grip  of  those  fine  and  nervous 
fingers. 

"  Captain  Duchesne  came,"  she  went  on,  "with 
four  hundred  Indians.  -My  uncle  has  two  hun- 
dred French  soldiers.  They  moved  upon  the 
fort  this  afternoon.  Port  Royal  is  surrounded. 
You  could  not  get  through.  Had  you  gone  on, 
you  would  have  been  a  prisoner  ere  now — or 
scalped!  "  and  she  closed  her  eyes  with  a  shud- 
der. "  Port  Royal  will  fall  to-night.  Then  I 
will  hide  you  and  get  you  away  to  your  own 
people!  " 

I  bowed  my  head.  I  could  not  upon  the  in- 
stant decide  what  I  ought  to  do.  She  looked  at 
me,  a  sort  of  fear  growing  in  her  eyes  as  I  kept 
silence.  At  this  moment  came  a  tramping  of 
feet  outside,  and  a  din  of  angry  voices.  Her  face 
went  ashen  with  terror. 

"  They  are  back!  "  she  gasped.  "  They  have 
failed.  They  will  be  in  a  fury.  Oh,  they  will 
take  you  for  a  spy !     Come !     There  is  only  one 


44  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

way.  Come!  Come!"  And  dragging  me  by 
the  arm,  she  ran  out  of  the  dining-room,  up  the 
wide  stairs,  along  a  narrow  corridor,  and  into  a 
spacious  room  beneath  the  gable.  Then  she 
grasped  both  my  arms,  and  looked  me  full  in 
the  face. 

"  You  cannot  escape  alone!  "  she  whispered. 
**  The  Indians  will  be  all  about  the  place.  But 
I  can  take  you  through  safely,  I  will  set  you 
free  to-night.  Give  me  your  word  that  you  will 
wait  here  till  I  come." 

I  laughed  softly,  seized  her  hands,  and  kissed 
them  in  turn. 

"  I  give  you  my  word,"  said  I.  "I  am  alto- 
gether in  your  power,  dear — where  I  would  ever 
be!" 

The  next  instant  she  was  gone.  I  heard  the 
key  turn  quietly  in  the  lock.  Then  I  heard  her 
laughter  in  gay  greeting. 

For  a  few  seconds  I  stood  motionless  in  the 
dusk.  There  was  a  faint  sweetness  in  the  air  of 
the  room — the  breath  of  her  hair  and  garments. 
The  place  was  a-thrill  with  her.  I  knew  it  was 
her  own  room — the  one  sure  sanctuary  in  that 
house.     My  head  bowed  in  a  passion  of  rever- 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy     45 

ence.  I  groped  my  way  noiselessly  to  a  chair. 
The  wonder  that  filled  my  brain  prevented 
thought  ;  the  joy  that  filled  my  heart  made 
thought  seem  idle.  She  loved  me,  or  was  on 
the  way  to  loving  me.  That  filled  life's  horizon. 
Aims,  interest,  ambitions,  of  a  few  hours  back, 
seemed  to  me  like  matters  read  of  in  a  story-book. 

Downstairs  the  bustle  and  din  of  voices  in- 
creased, but  I  heeded  not.  Perhaps  two  hours 
went  by  in  my  reverie.  Then  the  key  turned 
again,  the  door  opened,  and  in  the  dark  I  felt 
Ren6e  come  in.  I  rose  up,  stretching  out  my 
hands.  Instead  of  her  own  hands,  she  gave  me 
a  hat  and  cloak. 

"  What  are  these  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  They  belong  to  one  of  our  officers,"  she  an- 
swered. "  Put  them  on,  and  we  will  go.  Do 
not  speak." 

I  followed  her  obediently  down  a  narrow  stair- 
way and  to  a  small  door.  This  she  opened. 
Then  she  took  my  arm,  and  we  stepped  boldly 
out  into  the  garden.  Here  we  walked  up  and 
down  for  several  minutes.  Twice  we  passed 
soldiers;  but  in  the  glimmering  light  Rente's 
face  was  plainly  recognisable,  and  the  men 
stepped  aside. 


46  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

From  the  garden  we  walked  boldly  forth  into  a 
lane  which  led  down  to  the  river.  No  one  pre- 
sumed to  challenge  us.  The  lane  ended  in  a 
little  wharf,  with  a  clump  of  willows  beside  it. 
Here  Ren^e  pointed  to  a  canoe.  She  had  not 
spoken  all  this  while — nor  had  I,  my  heart  being 
too  full.  The  tide  was  brimming  high.  I 
launched  the  canoe,  pulled  the  prow  up  onto  the 
grass  a  little,  and  turned  to  Ren6e. 

She  was  weeping,  shaken  with  deep  sobs.  I 
took  both  her  hands  in  mine,  pulling  them  down 
from  her  face.  "  I  love  you!  "  said  I.  "  What 
is  the  matter,  beloved  ?  " 

"  Good-by.     I  shall  never  see  you  again!  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  '  I  asked,  trembling. 
Then  I  went  on  passionately:  "  There  can  be  no 
good-by  between  us  in  all  my  life.  You  are  all 
my  life.  You  are  mine.  I  shall  come  back  for 
you  at  once.  These  fellows  will  be  gone  to- 
morrow.    They  are  beaten !  " 

"  No!  no!  "  she  answered.  "  When  they  go, 
I  shall  go  with  them.  My  uncle  has  betrothed 
me  to  Captain  Duchesne.  Before  Lent — I  shall 
be  his  wife!  " 

The  words  came  hard.  I  could  scarce  catch  them. 


Bewitchment  of  Lieutenant  Hanworthy     47 

"  Do  you  love  him  ?  "  I  asked  stiffly. 

"  No!  no!  no!  "  she  said,  lifting  her  face  like 
a  child  who  would  be  comforted.  **  You  know 
whom  I  love." 

I  caught  her  into  my  arms,  sharply,  and  held 
her  very  close  for  a  moment. 

' '  Before  Lent,  indeed !  ' '  said  I  with  a  low 
laugh.  "  Before  to-morrow's  sunset  you  are  my 
wife,  Ren6e.  Come,  beloved!  We  shall  be  a 
httle  late  at  Port  Royal." 

Lifting  her  into  the  canoe,  I  thrust  off,  and 
paddled  down  the  full,  still  tide. 

From  Ren^e,  in  the  prow  of  the  canoe,  came 
a  little  sigh,  but  not  of  sorrow. 

"  It  is  so  nice,  Mark,"  she  said  presently,  "  to 
have  difficult  questions  decided  for  you." 

I  need  only  add  that,  owing  to  circumstances 
which  had  delayed  the  Major's  dinner,  we  were 
in  time  for  dessert,  after  all. 


Caspar  of  the 
Black  Le  Marchands 

THE  very  heart  of  the  green  Acadian  land 
was  Grand  Pr6,  village  of  apples  and  wil- 
lows. Behind  it  rose  the  long,  moderate  slopes 
of  Gaspereau  Ridge,  blue-patched  in  summer 
with  blossoming  flax-fields,  but  in  late  autumn 
softly  crimsoned  with  the  stalks  of  the  ripening 
buckwheat.  Past  the  eastern  skirt  of  the  village 
ebbed  and  flowed  tumultuously  the  yellow  cur- 
rents of  Gaspereau  stream,  filling  with  noise  the 
red  mud  chasm  of  their  channel.  In  front  lay 
outrolled  the  treasure  of  Grand  Pr^, — the  fruitful 
marshes  which  her  dyke-builders  had  patiently 
reclaimed  from  the  sea.  Beyond  the  marshes, 
gnawing  with  sleepless  depredation  at  the  dykes, 
rose  and  fell  the  huge  grey  tides  of  Minas,  the 
unstable  among  waters ;  and  beyond  Minas  stood 
the  looming  purple  bastion  of  Blomidon.     West 

48 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     49 

of  the  village  flourished  a  thick  beech  wood, 
stretching  over  toward  the  mouth  of  the  river 
Habitants ;  and  there  by  the  river,  part  of  Grand 
Pr6,  yet  set  apart  from  her,  was  the  little  settle- 
ment of  the  Black  Le  Marchands,  with  its  barley- 
and  flax-fields  hewn  from  the  beech  wood,  its 
snug  acreage  of  dyke  marsh  snatched  from  the 
Habitants  tide. 

The  Le  Marchand  men  were  dark,  even  for 
Acadians.  Unlike  their  fellows,  they  were  of 
Basque  rather  than  Normandy  or  Picardy  blood. 
Swarthy  of  skin,  black-haired,  black-bearded,  and 
with  heavy  coal-black  eyebrows  meeting  over  the 
nose,  they  well  deserved  their  name  "  the  Black 
Le  Marchands."  Blackest  of  all,  a  Le  Marchand 
of  the  Le  Marchands,  was  Caspar,  son  of  Pierre, 
— save  that  he  went  with  cheek  and  chin  clean- 
shaven, and  his  eyes,  instead  of  being  black,  had 
the  cool,  invincible  hue  of  dark  steel.  The  cot- 
tage next  the  beech  wood,  just  where  the  Grand 
Pr6  trail  emerged,  was  Gaspar's, — a  low,  white 
cottage,  with  widely  overhanging  eaves,  door  and 
window  frames  stained  to  a  slate  colour  with  a 
wash  of  lime  and  wood  ash,  and  squat  apple  trees 
gathered  about  it.     Here,  with  his  mother  and 


50  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

his  boy  brother  Pierrot,  lived  Gaspar,  and  kept, 
as  it  were,  the  gates  of  the  Le  Marchands. 
Young  though  he  was, — but  two  and  twenty, — 
his  level  eyes  and  visibly  resolute  mouth  made 
him  much  of  a  force  among  his  kinsmen. 

The  red  after-light  of  autumn  sunset,  shooting 
low  over  the  tide  and  the  marshes,  poured  into 
the  west  windows  of  the  cottage  and  dimmed  the 
blaze  on  the  great  kitchen  hearth.  The  smooth 
dark  wood  of  the  walls  and  the  low  ceiling  warmly 
reflected  it.  It  lit  the  bunches  of  herbs  and 
strings  of  onions  hanging  from  the  beams.  It 
played  cheerily  over  the  polished  crockery — yel- 
low and  brown  and  blue  and  grey — on  the  dresser 
shelves.  It  threw  a  pinkish  flush  on  the  sanded 
floor,  and  on  the  well-whitened  table  whereat  sat 
Gaspar  and  Pierrot.  It  laughed  upon  the  happy, 
expectant  face  of  the  boy,  whose  eyes  were  in- 
tent on  his  mother,  as  she  bent  her  broad, 
homespun-clad  form  over  the  pot  swung  in  the 
fireplace ;  but  upon  Gaspar's  face  it  only  brought 
out  the  lines  of  anxious  annoyance. 

There  was  no  sound  in  the  kitchen  but  the 
crisp  spluttering  of  the  hot  lard  in  the  pot.  Mis- 
tress Le  Marchand  dexterously  dipped  out  a  dish 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     5 1 

of  little  brown  crescent-shaped  cakes,  steaming 
and  savoury  to  smell.  Carrying  them  to  the 
dresser,  she  dusted  them  with  powdered  maple 
sugar.  There  she  left  them,  the  loadstone  of 
Pierrot's  eyes,  while  from  two  covered  dishes  by 
the  fire  she  fetched  a  baked  shad  and  a  pile  of 
hot  barley-cakes.  This  portion  of  the  meal  was 
to  be  dealt  with  before  Pierrot  should  be  let  loose 
upon  the  hot  cookies.  She  seated  herself  oppo- 
site her  two  sons,  and  her  round,  hot,  gentle  face 
turned  beaming  from  one  to  the  other;  but  it 
grew  troubled  at  Caspar's  gloom. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  in  the  old  Normandy 
dialect  which  prevailed  among  the  Acadians. 

"  The  Black  Abb^ !  "  answered  Caspar  sententi- 
ously,  breaking  his  barley-cake  into  a  bowl  of  milk. 

"  Well,  and  what  of  him,  Caspar  ?  "  inquired 
the  dame,  mildly. 

"  Just  this,  mother,"  said  the  young  man, 
looking  up,  his  black  brows  one  straight  frown 
across  his  face:  "  he  is  in  Crand  Pr6,  and  on  his 
way  to  see  me,  according  to  what  I  have  just 
heard  from  yellow  Ba'tiste  at  the  ferry." 

"  But — what  can  the  good  Father  want  with 
you,  my  son  ?  "  asked  the  mother,  tremulously. 


52  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  You  call  him  good  to  ward  off  his  evil, 
mother,"  replied  Caspar,  with  a  short  laugh. 
"  Well,  it  's  no  harm  to  try.  But  I  fear  he  has 
heard  I  am  not  hot  enough  against  the  English 
to  suit  him.  No  knowing  what  he  may  have 
heard.  There  is  like  to  be  trouble  for  us  out  of 
this  visit!  " 

"  Oh,  don't  anger  him,  my  son!  "  pleaded  his 
mother,  growing  white  and  worried. 

"  Why  are  you  not  hot  against  the  English, 
Caspar  ?  "  asked  Pierrot  in  a  tone  of  rebuke. 
"  Are  they  not  our  enemies  ?  Have  they  not 
trampled  us  down,  and  torn  us  from  our  own 
king  ?     Are  we  not  French,  Caspar  ? ' ' 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about, 
boy!  "  retorted  Caspar,  with  the  wonted  gentle 
patience  of  the  elder  brother. 

"  Don't  I !  "  cried  the  lad,  indignantly,  his  eyes 
flaming.  "  Oh,  but  when  I  am  old  enough  I 
won't  stay  here,  grub-grub-grubbing;  but  I  '11 
go  to  Quebec  and  fight  for  France,  for  King 
Louis,  and  for  the  Colden  Lilies." 

A  rare  smile  softened  the  harshness  of  Caspar's 
face. 

"  I  spoke  in  haste,  because  I   am  troubled," 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     53 

said  he.  "  Only  a  brief  while  back  I  thought  as 
you  do  now,  Pierrot ;  and  I  like  your  spirit  too. 
But  look !  Years  ago  France  sold  us  to  the  Eng- 
lish to  purchase  peace !  We  belong  to  England. 
These  years  she  has  ruled  us  better  than  we  were 
ever  ruled  before,  and  we  have  prospered ;  never- 
theless, we  have  been  forever  troublesome  and  a 
thorn  in  her  side.  * ' 

"  I  should  hope  so ! "  interrupted  Pierrot,  scorn- 
fully. 

**  But  she  has  been  patient  and  never  punished 
us,  and  let  us  have  our  own  way ;  and  we  have 
waxed  fat  under  her  care.  You  and  I,  Pierrot, 
are  born  under  the  English  flag!  Consider  that. 
It  is  hard  to  see  one's  duty  clearly.  Think  of 
what  the  Black  Abb6  has  made  us  do, — things  to 
make  us  ashamed  of  the  name  of  Frenchmen! 
Think  of  the  massacre  of  sleeping  women  and 
children  at  Dartmouth !  Think  of  the  good  and 
brave  Howe,  murdered  by  La  Game's  savages 
under  a  flag  of  truce!  " 

The  boy  was  taken  aback  for  a  moment ;  then 
he  cried  passionately,  "  One  bad  priest  could  not 
make  me  turn  against  my  country!  " 

**  I  say,  now,  it  is  hard  to  know  what  is  our 


54  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

country,"  said  Gaspar,  earnest  in  his  argument. 
"  We  are  born  English,  some  will  say.  Yet  we 
are  surely  not  English.  France  we  love,  but  she 
cast  us  off,  and  now  tries  to  make  a  catspaw  of 
us,  or  else  forgets  us  and  leaves  us  to  the  mercies 
of  Quebec.  Oh,  Quebec!  There  's  rottenness 
for  you!  You  don't  want  to  go  there,  Pierrot. 
There,  New  France  is  being  betrayed,  murdered ! 
There  Bigot,  the  great  thief,  the  prince  of  cheats, 
fattens  himself  and  his  crew  on  the  people,  and 
sucks  his  country's  blood.  The  people  are 
crushed  with  wicked  taxes,  Pierrot.  They  groan 
and  starve  there.  And  then  look  at  us,  the  Eng- 
lish ruling  us,  and  plenty  in  our  houses,  and  no 
misery  save  what  Quebec  and  the  Black  Abb6 
make  for  us.  Look  at  it,  Pierrot.  No,  it  is  clear 
we  have  no  country,  we,  save  this  good,  kindly 
Acadian  land.     Let  us  be  true  to  Acadie." 

The  door  behind  the  speaker  opened  suddenly. 

"  A  very  proper  sentiment,  if  properly  under- 
stood, Gaspar  Le  Marchand,"  came  a  strident, 
authoritative  voice,  and  a  lean  figure  in  a  black 
cassock  upgirt  for  marching  strode  into  the 
room.  The  face  of  the  newcomer,  though  almost 
grotesque  by  reason  of  its  long,  bulbous-tipped 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     55 

nose,  was  never  known  to  excite  derision.  The 
chin  and  mouth  were  too  fanatically  domineer- 
ing, too  much  of  power  spoke  in  the  bitter, 
narrow-set,  piercing  pale  eyes,  to  make  pleasantry 
easy  for  the  bravest. 

Mistress  Le  Marchand  sprang  up  in  a  flutter, 
ran  around  the  table,  sank  on  her  knees,  and  be- 
sought a  blessing.  Rather  doubtfully,  Pierrot 
followed  his  mother's  example.  But  Caspar 
merely  arose,  bowed  respectfully,  and  asked  the 
visitor  to  be  seated. 

"  I  heard  that  you  were  on  your  way  hither, 
sir,"  said  he,  "  and  in  part  expected  that  you 
might  honour  us." 

"A  guilty  conscience,  I  fear,"  replied  the  grim 
priest,  dismissing  the  woman  and  the  boy  with  a 
somewhat  perfunctory  benediction.  "  I  will  not 
sit  down  in  your  house,  Caspar  Le  Marchand, 
till  I  know  if  it  be  the  house  of  a  loyal  man." 

"  Be  seated,  then,  Father  La  Carne,"  said  Cas- 
par, with  a  cool  civility.  '  *  My  conscience  is  at  ease, 
— I  confessed  to  good  Father  Fafard  last  Sunday ; 
and  I  am  a  loyal  man  according  to  my  lights." 

La  Carne's  lips  became  thin  with  anger,  and 
his  voice  took  on  a  menacing  edge. 


56  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  Hark  you!  "  said  he.  "  You  speak  well  of 
the  English,  and  ill  of  the  authorities  at  Quebec. 
Is  this  true  ?  " 

"  Would  you  have  me  speak  well  of  Monsieur 
the  Intendant,  sir?"  asked  Gaspar,  unsmiling, 
but  with  irony  under  his  tongue. 

"  Speak  of  him  not  at  all,  then,"  snapped  La 
Game.     "  But  what  of  the  other  charge  ?  " 

"  I  must  confess,  sir,  I  have  remarked  upon 
the  forbearance  of  these  English,  and  upon  their 
moderate  rule,"  answered  Gaspar,  firmly. 

The  Black  Abb6  looked  at  him  with  a  long, 
silent  scrutiny,  under  which  Pierrot  trembled  and 
Mistress  Le  Marchand  began  to  sob.  But  Gas- 
par's  black  brows  took  it  serenely. 

"  So  much  an  enemy  may  concede,"  said  La 
Game  at  last,  in  a  voice  grown  smooth,  as  was 
ever  his  wont  when  most  dangerous.  "  But  you 
are  young,  and  not  yet  quite  resolute  to  follow 
the  path  of  duty,  my  son.  I  must  strengthen 
you,  I  perceive.  You  must  choose  here,  now, 
between  France  and  England." 

"  Under  what  compulsion,  sir  ?  "  asked  Gaspar, 
very  civilly,  though  a  flush  glowed  under  the 
swart  tan  of  his  face. 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     57 

"  Do  you  need  to  ask,  my  young  friend  ?" 
inquired  La  Game,  almost  tenderly,  but  still  stand- 
ing. "  My  faithful  Micmacs  are  with  me.  Re- 
member how  difficult  it  is,  at  times,  to  restrain 
their  zeal  for  France,  their  rage  against  traitors. 
Beaubassin,  luckless  village,  defied  them — and 
alas,  Beaubassin  is  not !  This  is  a  pleasant  home 
of  yours,  my  son.  It  were  pity,  indeed,  if  they 
should  turn  their  zealous  indignation  against  this 
house.  Yet  a  lesson  would  not  be  amiss  in  these 
parts!" 

There  was  dead  silence  for  a  moment  in  the 
room ;  then  Caspar  Le  Marchand  laughed  aloud. 
La  Game  eyed  him  with  angry  amazement. 

"  I  can  see  a  corner,"  said  Gaspar,  "  when  I 
am  in  it!  " 

**  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  La  Game, 
curtly.  He  liked  not  riddles  save  of  his  own 
propounding. 

"  I  had  hoped  but  to  till  my  fields  here,  and  not 
meddle,"  replied  Gaspar,  with  an  air  of  resigna- 
tion. "  But  since  I  must  choose,  I  have  chosen. 
Even  if  I  loved  the  English,  which  I  don't ;  even 
if  I  were  cold  toward  France,  which  I  am  not, 
my  choice  would  be  the  same.     I  am  for  France, 


58  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

sir."  The  Black  Abb6  sat  down;  but  Caspar 
continued :  "  I  am  for  France,  of  a  surety.  Your 
arm,  Father  La  Game,  is  long  and  nimble.  The 
arm  of  the  English  Governor  at  Halifax  is  not  so 
long,  and  it  moves  very  slowly.  Nevertheless, 
it  may  be  long  enough  to  reach  you,  sir,  some 
day.  Report  says  it  gropes  for  you  very  zeal- 
ously." 

"  You  have  chosen  with  discretion,"  said  La 
Game;  "  but  the  manner  of  your  choice  is  some- 
thing lacking  in  the  reverence  due  to  your  supe- 
riors.    It  were  well  to  amend  that,  perhaps." 

Caspar  promptly  seated  himself,  and  fixed  his 
cool,  grey  eyes  on  the  eyes  of  the  priest. 

"  Do  not  push  me  too  hard,"  said  he,  signifi- 
cantly. "  You  have  now  my  obedience.  Do 
not  demand  what  it  may  be  difficult  for  me  to 
give." 

"You  are  right!"  exclaimed  the  singular 
Churchman,  springing  up,  and  speaking  with 
evident  sincerity.  "  Your  obedience  is  necessary 
for  the  cause ;  your  reverence, — that  would  be  to 
me  as  a  man.  Who  am  I  that  I  should  demand 
it  ?  I  am  but  the  humble  instrument."  His 
eyes  gleamed  with  a  fanatical  brilliancy.     "  But 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchancis     59 

look  you,  Caspar  Le  Marchand,"  he  went  on, 
drawing  himself  up  and  stretching  out  his  arm 
solemnly,  **  this  land  of  Acadie  shall  again  shine 
among  the  rich  jewels  of  the  crown  of  France; 
and  this  hand  of  mine,  mark  you,  this  hand  of 
mine  shall  place  it  there!  " 

With  this  he  strode  to  the  door,  and  a  look  of 
deep  relief  came  upon  the  countenances  of  his 
hearers.  But  at  the  door  he  stopped.  He  turned. 
He  came  back  to  the  table.  His  whole  demean- 
our had  changed.  His  mouth  wore  a  smile  of 
caustic  irony. 

**  I  was  forgetting,"  said  he,  "  the  chief  part 
of  my  purpose.  Your  conversion,  my  son  (upon 
which  I  had  counted,  indeed),  was  perhaps  some- 
thing sudden.  I  will  fortify  you  in  it.  You  shall 
signally  serve  France,  and  that  at  once." 

Caspar  bowed  his  readiness,  betraying  neither 
anxiety  nor  reluctance.  He  was  not  one  to  spoil 
a  gift  by  grudging. 

"  A  band  of  my  faithful  followers  will  set  out 
to-night  for  the  Isthmus,"  continued  La  Came, 
scrutinising  Caspar's  face.  "  They  go  on  a  grave 
enterprise,  of  great  moment  to  the  fortunes  of 
this  land,  and  they  will  be  strengthened  by  your 


6o  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

presence.  You  shall  go  with  them,  my  son,  that 
I  may  thereafter  feel  assured  of  you." 

"  And  the  enterprise  ?  "  asked  Caspar. 

"  There  are  some  English  settlers  to  be  dis- 
couraged," answered  La  Game,  grimly.  "  You 
will  know  more  when  the  time  comes,  my  son. 
You  will  clothe  yourself  and  paint  yourself  as  an 
Indian,  of  course.     Be  ready  at  moonrise. " 

"  It  is  not  war,  this,"  protested  the  young  man. 

**  What  have  we  to  do  with  war  ?  "  sneered  the 
visitor.  "  It  is  victory  we  need!  Are  you  with 
us  or  against  us,  Caspar  Le  Marchand  ?  " 

"  I  will  be  ready,"  replied  Caspar,  with  indif- 
ference; and  the  Black  Abb6,  turning  abruptly, 
departed  without  a  word. 

"  Eat  your  supper,  Pierrot,"  ordered  Caspar. 
"  I  have  work  for  you."  And  the  boy,  with  a 
white  and  frightened  face,  did  as  he  was  bidden. 
Caspar  went  on  with  his  meal  in  silence,  his  black 
brows  lowering  over  his  eyes.  His  mother  sat 
sobbing. 

"  Oh,  my  boy,  my  Caspar,  you  will  be  killed !  " 
she  exclaimed  brokenly,  after  a  few  minutes. 

"  Nonsense,  mother!  It 's  not  that,"  said  the 
young  man.     "  There  's  no  danger  for  me." 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     6i 

"  What  is  it,  then,  Gaspar  ?  "  she  asked,  dry- 
ing her  eyes. 

He  looked  at  her  in  wonder. 

"  It  means,"  he  answered  presently,  "  that 
some  harmless  English  settlers  are  to  be  mur- 
dered in  their  beds  by  the  Black  Abba's  red 
devils,  and  that  /  am  to  take  a  hand  in  it,  in 
order  that  it  may  be  impossible  for  me  ever  after 
to  expect  any  mercy  from  Halifax." 

"  Why  do  you  go,  then  ?  "  demanded  the  boy 
indignantly,  his  ardour  for  France  much  dimin- 
ished. 

"  Because,"  replied  Gaspar,  "  rather  those 
strangers  than  my  mother  and  my  brother.  La 
Game  and  his  power  are  here.  If  I  defied  him, 
this  house  would  be  ashes  and  you  homeless, 
perhaps  worse,  this  very  night.  Slow,  slow  and 
stupid  are  the  English,"  he  went  on,  flaming  into 
sudden  anger.  "  Why  do  thev  not  shield  those 
of  us  who  wish  to  live  at  peace  and  obey  their 
laws  ?  We  are  ground  to  dust  between  the  upper 
and  the  lower  stone.  Let  them  look  to  them- 
selves. Nevertheless,  I  will  warn  them.  Slip 
you  out,  now,  Pierrot,  down  back  of  the  barn 
and  into  the  cover  of  the  wood;  and  run,  run 


62  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

your  best  to  Father  Fafard.  Tell  him  to  get 
word  to  the  English  at  Piziquid  that  a  raid  is 
afoot  against  one  of  the  English  settlements. 
Vite/" 

The  boy,  pleased  at  the  weighty  errand,  was 
off  noiselessly  in  a  moment,  despite  his  mother's 
tearful  attempt  to  stop  him. 

"  He  's  like  a  shadow.  Don't  be  afraid, 
mother,"  said  the  elder  brother,  reassuringly, 
hasting  to  finish  his  meal.  * '  Come  and  eat,  for 
there  's  much  to  be  done  after." 

Late  that  night,  when  the  moon,  shapeless  and 
withering,  crept  up  over  the  fringed  line  of  the 
beech  woods,  the  Black  Abb6  came  again  to  the 
door  of  Caspar's  cottage.  He  was  met  in  silence 
by  a  painted,  leathern-leggined  young  warrior, 
whose  steady  eyes  met  his  with  a  cold,  grey 
gleam.  La  Came  was  too  hot  a  fanatic,  too 
dominant  and  domineering,  to  be  a  discerner  of 
men's  minds.  He  was  satisfied  with  his  taciturn 
consort. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  leading  the  way  to  the  river, 
where  the  canoes  lay  at  the  brink  of  the  full  tide. 

The  night  fell  dark  over  the  marshes  of  Main- 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     63 

^-Dieu.  The  half-dozen  new  cottages  of  the 
English  settlers  showed  no  glimmer  of  candle- 
light from  their  windows.  Secure  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Fort  Lawrence,  not  ten  miles 
distant,  and  happy  in  the  fertility  of  their  new 
lands,  proved  by  the  rich  harvest  just  garnered, 
the  settlers  slept  the  sound  sleep  of  those  who 
rise  at  dawn  to  work  with  their  hands. 

The  raiding  party  had  made  their  journey  from 
Grand  Pr6,  by  canoe  and  trail,  in  three  days. 
Haste  was  not  urgent,  or  they  might  have  done 
it  in  less  time.  It  wanted  some  hours  of  moon- 
rise  when  they  came  upon  the  first  rail  fence  of 
the  Main-k-Dieu  fields. 

Caspar's  heart  sank  as  he  perceived  that  there 
had  been  no  warning, — that  Pierrot's  errand  to 
Father  Fafard  had  been  in  vain.  A  minute  more 
and  the  cabins  were  surrounded,  with  no  sound 
but  here  and  there  a  hushed  rustling,  like  the 
wind  among  dead  leaves.  A  dog  barked,  but 
the  bark  ended  abruptly  in  a  whining  sob. 

Then,  in  three  or  four  places,  little  flickers  of 
flame  appeared,  punctuating  the  darkness.  In  a 
second  the  rolls  of  white  birch  bark  flared  up 
vividly,  and  were  set  to  stack  and  barn.     At  the 


64  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

same  instant  every  door  was  beaten  in,  windows 
went  to  pieces  with  a  shivering  crash,  and  the 
cruel  yell  of  the  Micmacs,  wolfish,  appalling,  rose 
over  the  sudden  glare,  wavered  in  long-drawn 
cadence,  and  stopped.  After  what  seemed  to 
Gaspar  an  interminably  prolonged  silence,  shrieks, 
oaths,  and  shouting  broke  out  within  the  cabins. 

At  first  he  had  stood  inactive,  sick  with  pity 
and  impotence;  but  at  this  first  sign  of  living 
humanity  in  the  dark  cottages  Gaspar  made  up 
his  mind  what  to  do.  The  largest  of  the  houses 
was  just  before  him.  Springing  through  the 
open  door,  he  stumbled  over  two  prone  and 
writhing  figures  in  the  passage.  The  glare  from 
the  stacks  showed  him  a  painted  Micmac  and  a 
white  man  in  his  shirt,  locked  in  a  death  grip. 
This  was  no  affair  of  his.  He  slipped  past,  darted 
up  a  narrow  stairway,  and  found  himself  before 
two  doors,  one  open  and  one  shut.  To  the  shut 
one  he  turned,  with  a  flash  of  thought  that  here, 
perhaps,  he  might  be  in  time. 

The  door  was  bolted,  but  snapped  open  as  his 
shoulder  surged  against  it ;  and  he  paused  upon 
the  threshold. 

The  little  room  was  brilliantly  alight  from  a 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     65 

blaze  of  hay  just  before  the  window.  Against 
one  wall  was  a  low  bed.  He  had  a  vision  of  a 
young  girl  starting  up  from  the  pillow,  her  great 
eyes  wide  with  fear,  her  face  whitely  gleaming 
with  a  wild  glory  of  red-gold  hair.  A  cry  froze 
on  her  lips,  and  she  clutched  at  the  blankets  as  if 
to  try  to  hide  some  small  form  that  lay  between 
her  and  the  wall. 

At  this  moment,  another  door,  opposite  to 
Gaspar,  burst  open,  and  a  savage  darted  in.  His 
fierce  black  eyes  fell  on  the  bed,  and  with  a 
whoop  he  pounced  forward,  scalping  knife  in 
hand.  The  girl  cowered,  shuddering,  and  hid 
her  face. 

But  Gaspar  was  there  as  soon  as  the  savage. 
With  his  left  hand  he  caught  the  uplifted  wrist, 
and  the  stroke  never  fell.  Under  the  raised  arm 
his  long  knife  shot  home  to  the  hilt,  driven  hotly. 
The  redskin  dropped,  with  a  deep,  gasping 
grunt. 

Gaspar  rolled  the  limp  body  under  the  bed. 
The  girl  who  had  looked  up  in  time  to  see  the 
end  of  the  swift  encounter,  was  gazing  at  him  in 
bewilderment. 

"  Quick,    mademoiselle  !      Get    up  !      Come! 


66  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

There  '11  be  others  here  on  the  instant!"  He 
ordered  sharply,  thrusting  into  her  hands  a  heavy 
woollen  skirt  which  lay  on  a  chair  near  by. 

She  had  her  wits  about  her  in  a  moment. 
No,"    she    answered.       "  Save   him   if  you 
can  !  "  and  pulling  aside  the  covering  she  showed 
him  a  rosy  child  asleep  beside  her. 

Caspar's  jaw  set  like  iron. 
Jesu-Marie!  "  he  vowed  between  his  teeth, 

I  will  save  you  both.  But  it  will  be  hard! 
Come!  Come!"  And  hastily  rolling  the  little 
one  in  the  blanket,  he  snatched  him  up  and 
turned  to  the  door  by  which  he  had  entered. 
The  girl,  meanwhile,  had  slipped  small  white  feet 
into  the  shoes  which  lay  by  the  bed,  thrown  on 
the  skirt  deftly,  flung  a  quilt  over  her  head  and 
shoulders,  and  was  at  his  side  without  a  further 
word.  Even  in  that  desperate  moment  Caspar 
gloried  in  her  self-control. 

How   our   women  would  have  been  shriek- 
ing! "  he  said  to  himself. 

The  bundle  on  his  left  arm  began  to  squirm 
awkwardly,  and  muffled  cries  came  from  within 
it.  He  turned,  and  thrust  it  into  the  girl's 
arms. 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     67 

"  Keep  him  quiet!  "  he  muttered, — though  in 
truth  there  seemed  little  need  of  silence,  for  the 
red  night  was  one  quavering  horror  of  yells, 
shrieks,  and  curses,  penetrated  sharply  with  a 
musket  shot  now  and  then.  As  the  girl  took  the 
child  a  brief  lull  in  the  uproar  let  her  hear  deep 
groans  from  a  neighbouring  room. 

**  Oh,  that  is  my  uncle's  room!  "  she  gasped, 
beginning  to  tremble  violently,  and  leaning 
against  the  wall.  But  in  a  second  she  was  firm 
again,  and  followed  steadily  with  the  child  in  her 
arms. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  opened  a  small,  win- 
dowless  closet ;  and  into  this,  perceiving  the  ap- 
proach of  several  savages  by  the  front  door, 
Gaspar  pushed  his  charges.  He  took  his  stand 
in  the  entrance,  leaning  indifferently  against  the 
doorpost.  His  musket  hitherto  unused,  its  one 
charge  guarded  for  a  supreme  emergency,  rested 
in  his  left  arm.  His  right  hand  lay  on  the  handle 
of  his  sheathed  knife. 

"  Huh  ?  "  grunted  the  foremost  savage  inquir- 
ingly, while  the  others  passed  on.  He  peered 
over  Gaspar's  shoulder  into  the  thick  shadows  of 
the  closet.     Then  he  attempted  to  push  past, 


68  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

but  the  young  man's  elbow,  jerked  forward  un- 
gently,  balked  him.  The  savage  grunted  again 
with  resentment,  and  half  raised  his  hatchet ;  but 
Caspar's  cold  gaze  made  him  hesitate. 

My  business,  brother !  Go  on !  "  was  the 
curt  command;  and  after  an  angry  pause  the 
redskin  followed  his  fellows  up  the  stairs. 

The  moment  he  disappeared  Caspar  turned, 
clutched  the  girl's  arm,  and  dragged  her  at  a  run 
out  of  the  door,  into  the  lurid  street.  There 
he  paused ;  and  they  walked,  as  if  there  were  no 
need  of  haste,  straight  down  the  middle  of  the 
street.  A  savage  in  the  doorway  opposite  eyed 
them  curiously,  but,  not  recognising  Caspar  in 
his  war  paint,  supposed  his  brother  savage  knew 
his  business.  Then  three  yelling  redskins  ran 
past,  hard  on  the  heels  of  a  half-naked  and  un- 
armed white  man,  who  fled  with  chalk  face  and 
mad  eyes  of  horror.  As  they  passed,  one  of  the 
redskins  aimed  a  slash  at  the  girl  with  his  knife ; 
but  his  arm  was  caught  by  Caspar  with  a  wrench 
that  nearly  snapped  it,  and  with  a  cry  of  pain  and 
astonishment  he  ran  on,  not  stopping  to  investi- 
gate the  mystery. 

A  minute  more  and  the  fugitives  found  them- 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     69 

selves  opposite  a  lane  which  led  down  between 
some  burning  outbuildings  to  a  spur  of  thick 
woodland.  Here  they  turned;  but  as  they  did 
so  two  savages  stepped  out  from  the  nearest 
house,  to  which  they  had  set  fire,  and  stood 
squarely  in  their  path.  Simultaneously  they 
caught  at  the  bundle  in  the  girl's  arms.  But 
quick  as  a  flash  Caspar  swept  her  behind  him. 

"  Mine!  "  said  he,  curtly  and  coolly,  warning 
them  off  with  a  gesture.  "  Have  a  care, 
brothers." 

"  Huh!  Chief  Cope  say  no  captives  this 
time ! ' '  said  one  of  the  savages,  while  the  other 
stood  irresolute. 

"  But  /  say  captives,"  rejoined  Caspar  in  a 
haughty  voice.  "  If  Chief  Cope  objects,  he  can 
talk  to  me  by  and  by.  I  am  Caspar  Le  Mar- 
chand,  and  am  minding  my  business.  Go  you 
about  yours,  brothers." 

The  two  savages  looked  at  each  other,  and 
then  at  Caspar's  steady  eyes  confronting  them. 

' '  We  want  our  share,  brother, ' '  grumbled  the 
spokesman. 

"  You  shall  have  that, — the  scalp  money!  "  re- 
plied Caspar,  with  a  sneer.     "  One  livre  tournois 


70  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

to  each  of  you  I  will  pay.  Come  to  me  for  it,  at 
Grand  Pr6,  when  you  will." 

"  How  we  know  ?  The  French  lie,  sometimes, 
eh  what  ?  "  objected  the  savage. 

"  The  Black  Le  Marchands  don't  lie,"  an- 
swered Gaspar,  sternly.     I  will  pay  you.     Go!  " 

And  they  went,  judging  this  Frenchman  one 
ill  to  thwart.  Gaspar  fetched  a  deep  breath  of 
relief  as  he  led  the  girl  with  her  silent  burden 
down  the  lane,  safe  out  of  the  glaring  exposure 
of  the  street.  The  heat  was  stifling  as  they 
passed  between  the  blazing  sheds,  but  he  judged 
the  worst  of  the  peril  was  behind  him.  From  a 
noticeable  change  in  the  character  of  the  shouts 
and  yells  that  still  rent  the  air,  he  knew  that  cer- 
tain supplies  of  potent  New  England  rum  had 
been  discovered,  and  that  for  a  time  the  raiders 
would  have  other  things  than  dry  pursuit  to 
think  of. 

But  he  congratulated  himself  too  soon.  One 
pair  of  vindictive  eyes,  at  least,  had  seen  him 
turn  into  the  lane,  and  had  been  concerned  that 
Chief  Cope's  order,  "All  scalps;  no  captives," 
should  be  enforced.  The  girl's  quick  ear  caught 
a  footfall   behind  her.     She  glanced  back,  and 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     71 

sudden  as  light  swung  herself,  with  a  warning 
cry,  around  in  front  of  her  protector.  Caspar 
wheeled  in  his  tracks  and  faced  a  huge  savage, 
whose  knife  dripped  blood  still  steaming. 

For  several  seconds  the  two  eyed  each  other  in 
silence.     But  Caspar  could  not  waste  time. 

"  I  don't  want  to  kill  you !  "  said  he,  no  longer 
cool  and  masterful,  but  beginning  to  lose  himself 
in  rage.     "  Don't  interfere  with  me.     Be  off !  " 

Losing  control  of  himself,  he  lost  control  of  his 
opponent. 

"  Ugh!  "  snarled  the  savage.  "  Acadian  no 
good!  "  and  made  a  lightning  pass  at  him.  But 
Caspar  had  the  eye  and  hand  which  work  quicker 
than  the  brain  can  order  them.  Ere  that  stroke 
formed  itself  he  swerved  lithely,  and  the  muzzle 
of  his  musket,  shooting  upward,  caught  the  red- 
skin just  below  the  chin.  His  head  and  both 
hands  flew  up;  and  as  he  staggered  backward 
Caspar  swung  the  butt  in  a  short  circle  so  that  it 
fetched  him  terrifically  in  the  ribs. 

"  That  fellow  will  not  trouble  us  any  further," 
he  explained  to  the  girl,  as  he  eyed  the  painted 
heap  in  the  gutter.  Less  than  a  minute  more  and 
they  were  within  the  shadow  of  the  ancient  woods. 


72  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

The  girl  sank,  half  fainting,  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree,  but  Gaspar  pulled  her  to  her  feet. 

"  No,  no,"  he  muttered  sternly,  "  you  must 
not  break  down  now !  You  have  been  wonder- 
ful, wonderfully  brave  and  strong,  mademoiselle ; 
but  you  must  keep  it  up.  We  may  be  followed. 
We  must  get  away  this  instant !  " 

"  Yes,  I  will  be  strong.  I  will  do  anything 
you  bid  me,  sir,"  she  answered,  leaning  upon 
him  for  a  moment,  but  still  firmly  clutching  the 
child,  who  meanwhile  had  got  his  little  yellow 
head  from  the  smother  of  blanket,  and  was 
watching  Gaspar  with  round,  blue,  wondering 
eyes. 

"  I  '11  carry  him  now, ' '  said  Gaspar ;  and  the 
little  fellow  came  to  him  readily,  laughing,  and 
rubbing  the  paint  from  his  cheek  with  delighted 
fingers. 

"  You  take  the  musket,"  he  continued. 
"  Could  you  use  it  at  need,  mademoiselle — or — 
not  madame  ?  " 

"  No,  not  madame,"  she  answered,  the  faintest 
colour  returning  to  her  white  cheek.  "  He  is  my 
little  cousin, — alas,  an  orphan  now,  as  I  have 
been  since  a  child  like  him!     But  as  for  this," — 


Gaspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     ^-i, 

and  she  examined  the  musket  with  a  brave  face, 
— "  yes,  I  can  use  it,  sir;  and  will  fight  beside 
you,  if  you  will  let  me.  But  how  do  you  come 
to  be  among  those  fiends,  and  painted  as  one  of 
them  ?  Oh  no, — why  do  I  ask  questions,  instead 
of  just  thanking  God  on  my  knees  that  you  were 
among  them !  " 

She  knelt,  but  was  up  again  before  Gaspar 
could  bid  her  take  a  more  convenient  season  for 
her  devotions.  Through  the  woods  they  pressed 
breathlessly,  till  first  the  babel  behind  them  died 
out,  and  at  last  the  glare  of  the  burning  grew 
dim ;  and  then,  with  the  earliest  rose  of  dawn 
they  came  out  upon  the  marshes,  and  saw,  not 
half  a  league  away,  the  low  ramparts  of  Fort 
Lawrence. 

As  they  journeyed,  now  at  an  easier  pace, 
Gaspar' s  eyes  could  not  keep  themselves  froni 
the  strangely  clad  but  wholly  bewildering  figure 
at  his  side.  Her  calm,  her  marvellous  courage, 
the  confidence  of  her  white,  fine-chiselled  face, 
the  wonder  of  her  hair  aglow  in  the  early 
light,  were  a  revelation  of  unguessed  womanhood 
to  him.  His  brain  fumed  with  a  thousand  plans, 
but  his  tongue  was  wisely  dumb. 


74  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

At  last  they  reached  the  foot  of  a  gentle  slope, 
some  half  mile  from  the  fort  gates;  and  here 
Caspar  stopped. 

"  I  will  watch  you  safely  in,  mademoiselle," 
said  he,  putting  the  child  back  into  her  arms  and 
taking  his  musket.     "But " 

"  My  name  is  Ruth,  sir,"  she  interrupted. 
"  You  have  not  asked  it,  but  I  hope  you  will 
remember  it  a  little  while.     Ruth  Allison,  sir." 

Caspar's  grey  eyes  flamed  upon  her,  and  his 
speech  grew  stammering. 

"  Ruth — I  mean  mademoiselle,"  he  cried — "  I 
will  not  go  up  to  the  fort  now,  because  I  should 
be  detained  for  explanations,  and  I  must  make 
the  utmost  haste  back  to  Grand  Pr6.  I  must  get 
my  house  sold,  and  take  my  mother  and  young 
brother  to  a  place  of  safety,  before  the  Black 
Abb6  gets  wind  of  my  part  in  this  night's  work. 
Then  I  must  see  you  again,  mademoiselle,  to  ask 
if  you — if  you  and  the  little  one — who  seems  to 
love  me,  I  think — are  recovered  after  these  hor- 
rors. You  will  stay  here,  will  you  not  ?  And  I 
may  come,  may  I  not  ?  " 

Surely,  I  should  be  grieved  indeed  if  your  in- 
terest in  those  you  have  saved  were  not  enough 


Caspar  of  the  Black  Le  Marchands     75 

to  bring  you,  sir,"  she  answered  simply.  "  And 
for  your  noble  courage,  your  splendid —  Oh,  sir, 
how  can  I  find  words  for  such  generosity  ?  God 
will  surely  reward  you !  " 

"  I  pray,  mademoiselle,"  said  Caspar  in  a  low 
voice,  turning  to  go,  "  that  you  will  not  leave 
my  reward  altogether  to  God. ' ' 


Brown  Witch  and  Black  Abbe 

THE  warm  dusk  of  the  loft  smelt  pleasantly 
of  dried  sage,  marjoram,  and  other  herbs 
which  hung  in  bunches  from  the  roof.  From 
three  chinks  in  the  south-east  gable  streamed 
three  long  streaks  of  yellow  light,  wherein  the 
dust  motes  danced  merrily.  The  place  had  an 
air  of  security  and  peace.  I  could  not  bring  my- 
self to  believe  that  my  precious  life  was  in  any 
very  real  peril — and  of  a  priest  too !  Neverthe- 
less, I  moved  softly  as  a  cat,  for  was  not  the 
priest  none  other  than  the  notorious  Black  Abb6, 
La  Game,  whose  treacheries  we  in  Halifax  had 
cause  to  rue  ?  And  had  not  Madame  been  very 
positive  that  my  scalp  was  in  instant  demand  ? 
I  crept  across  the  light  planks  till  I  reached  a 
spot  nearly  over  the  door,  well  under  the  eaves. 
There  I  lay  down,  and  noted  with  satisfaction 
that  I  was  so  hidden  by  a  pile  of  yellow  squashes 
that  if  one  should  thrust  his  head  curiously  above 

76 


Brown  Witch  and  Black  Abb^        'j'] 

the  trap-door  the  loft  would  appear  quite  un- 
tenanted. In  the  flooring  whereon  I  stretched 
myself  there  were  several  knot-holes,  by  means 
of  which  I  could  command  a  fairish  view  of  the 
room  below. 

I  could  see  the  fire  flickering  lazily  under  the 
pot  which  hung  in  the  wide,  dirty  fireplace.  I 
could  see  the  heavy,  well-scrubbed  and  whitened 
table,  with  its  wooden  platter  of  barley-cakes  and 
its  bowl  yet  half  full  of  the  new  milk  which  my 
haste  had  not  left  me  chance  to  finish.  I  wanted 
the  milk,  for  I  was  thirsty  from  my  long  tramp 
over  the  Piziquid  trail ;  and  I  roundly  cursed  the 
interrupter  of  my  meal.  Then  light  steps  on  the 
sanded  floor  diverted  my  thoughts  from  the  bowl 
of  milk;  and  Madame's  slender  figure  came  into 
my  restricted  line  of  vision.  My  eyes  rested 
upon  her  with  a  keen  interest  as  she  busied  her- 
self deftly  over  household  affairs.  How  small 
were  her  feet;  how  small,  though  brown  with 
sun  and  somewhat  toil-hardened,  were  those  two 
nimble  hands !  I  admired  the  fine  poise  of  her 
head,  with  the  heavy  hair,  low  over  the  ears,  hair 
of  the  darkest  brown,  shot  with  ruddy  colour 
where  the  sunshine  caught  in  it.    Her  dress  was  of 


78  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

the  light  greyish  Acadian  homespun  Hnen,  and  a 
bodice  of  dull  dark  blue  fitted  her  waist  and 
shoulders  trimly.  Her  sleeves  were  rolled  up  to 
the  elbows,  displaying  brown  arms  very  slim  and 
shapely.  I  wished  she  would  look  up,  that  I 
might  see  again  her  amazingly  large,  dark  eyes 
— black,  you  might  say,  save  for  a  tawny  fire  in 
them.  In  our  raw  little  town  of  Halifax,  at  this 
time,  there  were  few  women,  and  none  to  make 
a  man's  head  turn  twice,  except,  maybe,  two  or 
three  of  the  younger  officers'  wives.  I  thought 
how  this  Acadian  beauty  would  be  admired  in 
Halifax,  and  I  said  to  myself:  "  She  is  surely  not 
a  woman  of  the  habitant  class.  She  seems  city- 
born,  and  not  ungently  bred ;  and  I  '11  wager 
there  is  blood  in  those  fine  veins  that  does  not 
all  derive  from  Jacques  Bonhomme!  " 

In  this  reverie  I  grew  so  interested  that  for  the 
moment  I  forgot  my  situation.  The  hard  planks 
irked  me,  and  I  changed  my  posture  with  a  por- 
tentous creaking.  On  the  instant  the  heavy  table 
below  was  drawn  sharply  over  the  floor,  cloaking 
my  noise.  I  had  but  time  to  marvel  at  her  quick- 
ness of  resource,  when  a  shadow  darkened  the  open 
doorway,  and  a  harsh,  masterful  voice  demanded : 


Brown  Witch  and  Black  Abb^         79 

**  Daughter,  has  the  Englishman  passed  this 
way  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Father  La  Game,"  came  her  respectful 
and  ready  answer.  "  Will  you  not  honour  me 
by  resting  here  a  little  ?  " 

"  How  long  since  ?  "  asked  the  curt  voice. 

"An  hour,  perhaps,  or  less,  Monsieur  TAbb^," 
was  the  reply,  a  trace  of  coldness  coming  into 
Madame's  tones. 

The  visitor  noted  the  change.  He  was  not  at 
the  moment  ready  to  offend.  He  wanted  willing 
and  full  information.  He  stepped  inside  and 
stood  near  the  table,  so  that  I  could  note  his 
spare,  hardy,  dark-robed  figure,  the  indomitable 
spirit  that  spoke  in  every  movement.  But  his 
face  I  could  not  see. 

"  Pardon  me,  my  daughter,"  he  said  more 
graciously,  "  I  am  in  haste  to  catch  this  fellow. 
The  fool  is  crossing  me  on  this  errand.  It  is 
necessary  he  should  be  removed,  for  a  lesson  to 
the  other  fools  at  Halifax.  Did  you  talk  with 
him  ?    Whither  was  he  bound  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Father,"  said  Madame,  very  graciously; 
"  he  was  courteous,  and  talked  freely  during  the 
few  minutes  that  he  paused  here.     He  said  he 


8o  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

had  come  to  get  cattle  from  the  Grand  Pr6  farm- 
ers for  the  garrison  at  HaHfax,  and  to  forbid  the 
sending  of  our  cattle  to  Louisbourg.  He  was 
going  straight  to  Monsieur  de  Lamourie,  whom 
he  counted  upon  to  further  his  errand." 

The  visitor  stepped  quickly  back  to  the  door 
and  gave  a  guttural  call.  At  once  I  heard  the 
furtive,  confused  approach  of  moccasined  feet,  and 
with  both  hands  grasped  the  pistols  in  my  belt. 
There  were  a  few  sharp  orders  given  in  the  Mic- 
mac  tongue,  which  I  did  not  understand ;  then  I 
heard  a  measured  loping  as  a  band  set  out  upon 
the  run  down  the  road  towards  Grand  Pr6.  I 
could  not  see,  of  course,  and  I  was  troubled  to 
know  whether  he  had  sent  all  his  savage  followers, 
or  was  keeping  a  reserve  at  hand. 

On  this  point  I  might  have  trusted  the  ready 
wit  of  my  hostess.  As  the  Black  Abb6  turned 
again  into  the  room  and  seated  himself  beside  the 
table,  just  where  I  had  been  sitting  so  few  min- 
utes before,  Madame  asked  him,  in  a  tone  of 
irreverent  banter: 

' '  Why  do  you  send  six  of  your  twelve  red  lambs, 
Monsieur  I'Abb^,  to  capture  one  lonely  English- 
man ?     Is  he,  then,  so  redoubtable  a  warrior  ? " 


Brown  Witch  and  Black  Abb^         8i 

The  Black  Abb6  did  not  seem  annoyed  at  the 
question. 

"  I  know  not  of  his  prowess,  my  daughter," 
said  he,  "  but  he  is  an  Englishman,  and  so,  liable 
to  be  blundering  and  brave.  It  is  well  to  be  on 
the  safe  side  when  dealing  with  him.  Six  are 
none  too  many.  I  pray  you,  bring  me  some 
milk!  "  and  I  saw  him  break  a  piece  of  the  fresh 
barley-cake. 

The  milk  she  fetched  at  once,  in  a  brown 
pitcher,  and  poured  it  for  him  into  a  pewter  mug. 

**  And  why  have  you  kept  the  other  six  Indians 
here  with  you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  They  make  me 
nervous.     I  don't  like  them!  " 

He  laughed  cynically. 

"  Again  it  is  well  to  be  on  the  safe  side,"  said 
he.  "  I  never  know  when  I  may  need  them; 
these  are  pregnant  times.  Since  when  have  you 
grown  nervous,  Madame  La  Fleur  ?  " 

"  Can  you  ask  that.  Father  La  Game  ? "  she 
rejoined,  coldly. 

**  Tut,  tut!  "  said  he,  with  careless  impatience. 
"  That  husband  of  yours  can  have  been  no  great 
loss  to  you !  and  he  has  been  dead  these  two 
years.     Don't  reproach  me,  Madame  La  Fleur. 


S2  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

You  never  loved  him.  A  thief  and  disgraced, 
he  came  here  from  Quebec." 

"  True,  I  never  loved  him;  but  I  kept  a  good 
home  for  him  and  he  made  a  home  for  me,"  she 
answered  very  coldly.  "And  here,  where  he  was 
not  known,  he  might  have  recovered  something 
of  what  he  had  lost ;  but  you  twisted  him  around 
your  finger  and  made  him  your  tool.  Oh,  he 
was  pitifully  weak!  But  it  is  lonely  living  here. 
Can  you  reproach  me  if  I  grow  nervous  ?  Poor 
creature  though  he  was,  I  owe  the  English  a 
grudge  for  his  death !  " 

I  tried  every  knot-hole  within  reach  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  La  Game's  face,  but  in  vain.  I  could 
see  only  his  black-frocked  knees  and  heavily-shod 
feet.     He  laughed  meaningly.. 

"  Oh,  yes,  my  daughter,"  he  said,  "  you  owe 
these  English  a  grudge.  But  this  fellow  is 
comely — I  have  seen  him ;  and  you  say  he  is 
very  courteous.  Perhaps  you  think  these  English 
owe  you  a  new  husband!  " 

I  grew  hot  with  rage  at  the  coarseness  of  it ; 
and  I  saw  Madame's  beautiful  face  flush  dusky- 
crimson  under  its  clear  tan.  She  drew  herself  up 
haughtily. 


Brown  Witch  and  Black  Abb^         S^ 

"  How  dare  you,  sir,  insult  me  ?  You  take 
advantage  of  my  unprotectedness !  What  excuse 
have  I  given  you  for  such  an  insinuation  ?  " 

"  Oh!  "  he  answered,  his  voice  grown  soft  and 
sneering,  "  though  he  is  an  enemy,  and  on  an 
errand  hostile  to  your  people,  you  have  enter- 
tained him  here  at  your  table !  Here  is  the  bread 
of  which  he  has  been  eating!  Here  is  the  bowl 
of  milk  from  which  he  drank!  " 

"  But,  Father,"  she  protested,  growing  sud- 
denly anxious  and  persuasive,  "  you  would  not 
have  me  refuse  a  cup  and  a  loaf  to  any  wayfarer, 
surely  ?  " 

"He  is  very  comely  and  courteous!"  he 
sneered.     "  You  acknowledged  it  yourself!  " 

"  I  did  not!  "  she  cried  angrily. 

He  ignored  the  contradiction. 

"  How  long  ago  was  it,  my  daughter,  that 
he  went  by?"  he  asked,  with  a  smoothness  in 
which  I  discerned  danger. 

"  An  hour,  perhaps.  Father  La  Game,"  she 
answered  frankly  and  without  hesitation. 

There  was  a  pause,  to  me  full  of  significance. 

"  Marie  La  Fleur,"  he  said,  drawing  out  each 
syllable,  *  *  you  have  lied  to  me !  ' ' 


84  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

The  suddenness  of  the  accusation  confused  her. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  The  milk  is  not  yet  dry  on  the  edge  of  the 
bowl  where  he  drank!"  went  on  those  edged 
syllables.  "  I  command  you,  tell  me  at  once 
where  he  is!     You  dare  not  defy  me,  Marie " 

' '  I  dare !  *  *  she  flashed,  but  with  a  sob  of  fear 
in  her  throat. 

"  Think,  think  just  a  little,  my  daughter!  "  he 
continued,  his  voice  sweetening  to  the  note  of 
utmost  menace. 

She  burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,  no!  It  is  true.  I  dare  not!  "  she  cried, 
anger  and  fear  contending  in  her  words.  "  I  do 
fear  you!  Oh,  I  hate  you,  but  I  fear  you!  I 
will  tell  you  everything." 

She  stopped,  as  if  the  words  choked  in  her 
throat.  Would  she,  then,  betray  me  ?  My 
heart  sank — not  with  fear — but  with  an  anguish 
of  disappointment.  I  could  not  dream  of  her  a 
traitor!  But  I  set  my  teeth,  and  thought  of  a 
good  fight  to  be  fought  within  the  next  two 
minutes. 

She  got  her  voice  again,  and  the  intensity  of 
hate  that  thrilled  it  startled  me. 


Brown  Witch  and  Black  Ahh6         85 

"  May  my  bitterest  curse  rest  upon  you!  "  she 
said  slowly.  "  You  force  me  to  defile  my  soul 
with  treason !  I  fear  no  man  living  but  you,  you 
dishonourer  of  Holy  Church!  " 

"  Never  mind  about  that,  woman!  "  said  he. 
"  You  are  trying  to  gain  time  for  him,  I  see! 
Tell  me  where  he  is — or  I  give  you  over  in  his 
place  to ' ' 

She  fell  on  her  knees  and  clutched  his  gown. 

"  I  will  tell  you!  "  she  sobbed.  "  But  spare 
him,  spare  him !     Would  you  slay  my  soul  ?  " 

"  Enough!  "  he  growled,  tearing  himself  away 
and  stepping  to  the  door,  *  *  I  will  absolve  you ! 
But  you  have  no  more  time  for  choice!  I  will 
call  them." 

Her  voice  grew  calm,  as  with  resignation  of 
despair — and  clutching  my  pistols,  I  rose  to  my 
knees,  feeling  that  the  moment  had  come. 

"  He  went,"  she  said,  "  stepping  on  those 
stones  so  as  to  leave  no  trail " 

Could  I  believe  my  ears  ?  What  an  astound- 
ing actress !  And  no  traitor !  All  this  a  part  of 
her  matchless  contriving ! 

"  I  told  him,"  she  went  on,  brokenly,  "  to 
follow  those  stepping-stones,  through  the  swale 


86  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

to  the  spring,  and  then  run  down  the  bed  of  the 
brook  till  he  came  to  the  path  through  the  past- 
ure and  the  birch  wood  over  to  the —  No !  no ! 
I  cannot  tell  you,  for  then  he  will  have  no  chance 
of  escape!     He  will  die  like  a  rat  in  a  hole!  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  Black  Abb6,  quietly. 
"That  will  do.  I  know  the  cave.  I  might  have 
thought  of  it  myself,  and  spared  you  these 
qualms! " 

He  stepped  to  the  door,  and  there  was  a  rapid 
exchange  of  gutturals.  Then  the  moccasined 
footsteps  fled  away  softly  toward  the  cave. 

But  La  Game  did  not  go.  He  came  back  into 
the  room,  where  Madame  crouched  upon  the 
floor,  sobbing. 

I  wondered  if  she  would  get  me  away,  or  if  I 
had  better  come  down  and  settle  my  enemy  at 
once.  I  had  acquired  such  confidence  in  her 
resources  that  I  decided  to  wait  a  minute  or  two 
before  taking  things  into  my  own  hands. 

"  Stop  being  a  fool,  now! "  he  said  impatiently. 
"  Get  up  and  bring  me  food,  and  be  thankful 
that  you  have  not  forced  me  to  teach  you  a 
lesson!  " 

"My  God!   do   I   need   more- lessons  ? "  she 


Brown  Witch  and  Black  Abb^         87 

wailed.  But  she  arose,  went  to  a  closet,  and 
fumbled  therein  for  a  few  seconds. 

"  Make  haste,  my  daughter!  "  said  he,  more 
smoothly  and  more  dangerously. 

With  a  movement  swift  as  light  she  turned  and 
faced  him,  the  table  between  them.  Her  voice 
came  cool  and  steady : 

"  Lift  but  a  hand,  or  give  one  call,  and  you 
are  a  dead  dog,  Monsieur  I'Abb^!  " 

She  had  him  covered  with  the  muzzle  of  a 
large  pistol.  Before  he  could  make  any  reply  I 
had  sprung  across  the  loft  and  was  down  the 
ladder. 

"  You  wonder  among  women!  "  I  whispered, 
as  I  passed  her.  Then  I  went  and  stood  before 
the  astonished  priest. 

"I  regret  to  be  uncivil,  monsieur,"  said  I, 
politely,  "  but  I  must  bind  and  gag  you,  with  no 
loss  of  time,  or  else  silence  you  in  a  more  effectual 
manner." 

I  paused  to  consider,  studying  his  face  care- 
fully the  while.  It  was  a  strange  face,  repellent 
but  powerful — the  head  high  and  narrow,  the 
mouth  wide  and  thin-lipped,  the  nose  very  long, 
with  an  aggressively  bulbous  tip,  the  jaw  wolfish. 


88  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

the  eye  pale,  small,  keen.  Here  was  no  lack  of 
courage,  I  could  see. 

**  She  has  outwitted  me,  I  am  beaten!  Can  we 
not  make  terms  ?  "  he  asked  calmly,  looking  me 
straight  in  the  eye. 

*  *  We  have  small  time  for  parley, '  *  said  I.  "It  is 
plain  I  must  kill  you  unless  I  can  trust  your  oath !  " 

"  I  keep  my  oath — when  I  give  it!  "  said  he, 
curtly. 

I  turned  to  Madame,  whose  great  eyes  were 
flaming  with  excitement,  though  the  rest  of  her 
face  was  as  calm  as  a  statue's.  To  the  question 
in  my  own  eyes  she  assented  with  a  lowering  of 
her  brows. 

"  Swear  to  me  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  Sir  Abb6," 
said  I,  "  that  neither  directly  nor  indirectly  will 
you  execute  any  vengeance  upon  Madame  La 
Fleur  for  this  day's  doings.  That  to  the  utmost 
of  your  power,  and  without  mental  reservation, 
you  will  guarantee  to  Madame  La  Fleur  and  to 
myself  safe  passage  back  to  Halifax,  and  that 
any  tenant  whom  Madame  La  Fleur  may  place 
in  this  house  shall  not  be  molested  in  his  work, 
or  hindered  in  the  payment  of  his  rents!  Please 
repeat  this  after  me,  word  for  word!  " 


Brown  Witch  and  Black  Abb^         8q 

The  grim  face  stiffened,  the  keen  eyes  glanced 
through  the  window. 

"  It  is  not  yet  time  for  them  to  return,"  said 
I,  "  but  if  you  refuse  we  shall  need  all  the  time 
we  can  secure,  so  you  must  decide  on  the  instant. 
I  shall  be  sorry  to  kill  you  if  you  say  no,  but  I 
really  cannot  wait !  ' '  And  I  set  my  sword  point 
convenient  to  his  neck. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  excellent 
coolness. 

"  I  will  swear!  "  said  he. 

Then,  word  by  word,  I  gave  him  the  oath,  and, 
word  by  word,  he  clearly  enunciated  it. 

I  lowered  my  point  and  bowed.  "  You  are  a 
bad  priest,  but  a  brave  man,  monsieur,"  said  I, 
civilly,  "  and  I  am  quite  at  ease  now." 

"  But,  monsieur,"  interposed  my  fair  hostess 
and  saviour,  "  you  have  received  for  me  a  safe- 
conduct  to  Halifax!  Might  I  not  claim  the 
honour  of  being  consulted  ?  " 

"  Time  pressed  too  sharp  for  ceremony,  ma- 
dame,"  said  I.  **  But,  as  you  must  know,  I 
overheard  all  your  conversation  with  Monsieur 
La  Game ;  and  you  must  know  it  is  impossible 
for  you  to  remain  here!  " 


90  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

She  blushed  scarlet  and  made  to  speak ;  but  I 
gave  her  no  time. 

' '  I  beg  that  you  will  permit  me  to  escort  you 
to  Halifax,  and  place  you  under  the  protection 
of  the  Governor  and  his  excellent  lady.  What 
more  I  would  beg  I  dare  not  yet,  madame,  lest 
raw  haste  should  bungle  a  hope  but  born  this 
hour  past,  and  still  diffident;  though,  sure  of 
itself,  it  has  already  grown  to  be  the  greater  half 
of  my  heart." 

"  You  speak  in  hard  riddles,  monsieur,"  she 
said  gravely,  "  but  I  desire  you  not  to  unravel 
them  at  present.  I  will  go  to  Halifax  because  I 
think  that  will  be  wisest,  and  I  thank  you  for 
your  courtesy,  monsieur." 

La  Game  arose  from  his  chair  with  a  sarcastic 
smile  which  set  my  blood  boiling.  He  went  to 
the  door,  and  was  met  by  six  of  his  followers  just 
back  from  their  vain  errand  toward  Grand  Pr6. 
The  vanity  of  it  they  had  learned  from  one  of 
the  Abba's  spies  before  they  had  half  covered 
their  journey.  Their  dark,  gleaming  eyes  be- 
trayed no  astonishment  at  my  attitude  of  easy 
fellowship  with  their  master.  He  addressed 
them  with  autocratic  brevity. 


Brown  Witch  and  Black  Abb^         91 

"  Go  with  this  gentleman  and  this  lady  to 
Halifax,"  said  he,  "  See  that  no  hurt  comes  to 
them.  You  will  answer  to  me  for  them  until 
they  are  safe  within  the  English  walls." 

Turning  upon  his  heel  with  a  kind  of  disdain, 
he  left  us  without  farewell,  and  strode  rapidly 
down  toward  Grand  Pr6.  I  looked  into  the  great 
eyes  of  Madame — and  in  that  look  I  spoke  the 
love  which  it  would  have  been  presumptuous  for 
my  lips  to  utter.  She  blushed,  looked  down, 
but  seemed  in  nowise  vexed,  and  from  this  I 
augured  well  for  my  future. 


La  Mouche 

THE  autumn  sky  was  clear  along  the  blue 
top  of  Blomidon,  the  autumn  sunlight 
settled  in  yellow  haze  on  the  wide,  low-lying 
meadows  and  comfortable  slopes  of  Grand  Pr6. 
The  barns  were  overflowing  from  a  rich  harvest. 
The  orchards  were  red  with  apples.  But  a  heavy 
sorrow  lay  like  night  upon  the  village,  and  not  a 
hearth  therein  but  was  washed  with  tears.  With 
dull  and  reddened  eyes  the  women  went  about 
their  work.  All  day  long  no  laughter  was  heard 
but  that  of  the  young  children.  It  was  the  year 
of  the  Great  Exile. 

The  men  of  Grand  Pr6  were  under  lock  and 
guard  in  the  village  chapel.  Their  long,  stubborn 
refusal  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  England, 
though  Nova  Scotia  had  become  an  English 
colony,  had  at  last  borne  its  inevitable  fruit. 
Since  they  would  not  turn  their  eyes  away  from 
the  France  which  had  deserted  them,  the  decree 

92 


La  Mouche  93 

of  banishment  had  been  reluctantly  spoken  against 
them.  To  the  chapel  Colonel  Winslow  had  sum- 
moned them  all  to  hear  a  royal  proclamation ;  and 
that  proclamation  had  declared  to  them  their 
fate.  The  soldiers  at  the  doors  had  held  them 
captive.  The  sails  of  the  ships  that  should  take 
them  into  exile  were  already  drawing  near. 

Food  for  the  sad-faced  prisoners  in  the  chapel 
was  brought  daily  by  the  women  and  children. 
Mothers,  wives,  daughters,  sisters,  and  sons  so 
young  that  their  long  locks  had  not  yet  fallen 
under  the  shears,  jostled  each  other  at  the  chapel 
door;  and  girls,  whose  lovers  were  within,  came 
eagerly,  and  went  away  not  daring  to  tell  their 
errands.  Of  the  men,  some  lounged  heavily 
about  the  familiar  building,  and  wondered  in  dull 
misery  if  these  walls,  now  grown  so  hateful,  were 
the  same  which  had  watched  benignantly  over 
their  baptism,  their  first  communion,  and  their 
marriage.  Others  of  the  prisoners  crowded  the 
window  spaces  and  gazed  longingly  across  the 
dear  fields  which  they  never  again  should  till,  turn- 
ing up  the  long,  black  furrow  behind  their  slow- 
paced  oxen.  Others  again  there  were  who  wept 
and  prayed  in  the  darkest  corners  of  the  chapel. 


94  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

But  not  quite  all  the  men  of  Grand  Pr6  village 
were  thus  captive.  There  were  several  of  these 
Acadian  farmers  who  had  long  ago  been  politic 
enough  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  King 
George,  and  honest  enough  to  adhere  to  it  in 
spite  of  all  threat  and  persuasion.  These  were 
treated  with  marked  favour  by  the  British  authori- 
ties. Among  them  was  Pierre  Maillard,  a  pros- 
perous old  habitant  whose  farm  lay  around  the 
bend  of  the  hill  from  Grand  Pr6,  just  in  the 
mouth  of  the  Gaspereau  valley.  Here,  with  his 
industrious  and  bright-eyed  old  wife,  and  his 
wilful  daughter  Celeste,  he  cultivated  his  flax  and 
potatoes,  and  kept  his  mind  at  ease.  Without 
alarm  he  had  obeyed  the  call  of  the  New  England 
colonel ;  and  from  the  chapel-prison  he  had  been 
released  with  many  flattering  compliments  upon 
his  loyalty.  But  the  old  man's  heart  was  heavy 
for  his  countrymen. 

There  was  one,  however,  whose  absence  from  the 
chapel-prison  was  much  marked,  but  who  surely 
owed  his  freedom  to  no  English  favour.  Ba'tiste 
Perrot,  better  known  by  the  nickname  of  La 
Mouche,  was  wanted  by  the  English  authorities. 
He  was  their  most  daring  and  restless  opponent 


La  Mouche  95 

among  the  Acadians.  The  names  of  France, 
Quebec,  Louisbourg,  were  ceaselessly  on  his  lips. 
He  was  deep  in  the  counsels  of  La  Game,  the 
Black  Abb6.  A  bold  hunter,  a  skilled  bush- 
ranger, he  carried  to  Louisbourg  information  of 
the  English  plans;  and  from  Louisbourg  he 
brought  messages  of  menace  or  exhortation  to 
keep  the  Acadians  mindful  of  their  old  flag. 

When  La  Mouche,  who  had  his  usual  head- 
quarters at  Grand  Pr6,  heard  of  the  English  pro- 
clamation, he  smiled  and  went  warily.  When  he 
saw  his  fellow-villagers  bound  for  the  chapel,  he 
discreetly  set  his  face  toward  the  forests  and  dim 
ravines  that  guarded  the  upper  valley  of  the  Gas- 
pereau ;  and  Winslow's  New  England  musketeers 
sought  him  in  vain.  His  woodcraft  made  derision 
of  their  clumsy  search. 

One  evening,  when  the  search  had  long  been 
dropped,  and  Grand  Pr6  sorrow  had  wept  itself 
into  silence,  and  already  one  shipload  of  exiles 
had  vanished  over  the  wild  tides  of  Minas,  Celeste 
Maillard  was  driving  her  cows  to  pasture  after  the 
milking.  In  a  thicket  beside  the  path  came  a 
light  rustle,  and  La  Mouche  stood  before  her. 

"  Ba'tiste!  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  in  a  tone  of 


96  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

mingled  pleasure  and  reserve.  Then  she  glanced 
about  her  in  apprehension. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  Celeste,"  said  La  Mouche, 
stepping  to  her  side.  "  You  may  be  sure  I  saw- 
that  there  were  no  enemies  in  sight  before  I 
showed  myself," 

The  girl  made  no  reply,  and  the  man  eagerly 
scanned  her  face  as  he  walked  beside  her.  He 
was  thrilled  by  the  note  of  pleasure  he  had  caught 
in  her  quick  utterance,  and  his  eyes  had  a  confid- 
ent light. 

"  You  were,  then,  a  little  bit  alarmed  on  my 
account,  lest  the  English  should  get  hold  of 
me,  were  you  not.  Celeste?"  he  continued, 
craving  to  hear  again  that  kindness  in  the  girl's 
voice. 

It  was  a  blundering  speech.  The  swarthy  and 
lean-faced  woodsman  was  an  unpractised  lover. 
Far  less  knew  he  of  women  than  of  lynx  and 
moose  and  panther,  and  in  presence  of  Celeste 
his  wonted  subtlety  failed  him.  The  reserve  in 
the  girl's  face  deepened;  the  cordiality  faded 
out.  Turning  her  head  so  that  she  could  look 
her  companion  calmly  in  the  eyes,  she  said : 

"  Certainly,  Ba'tiste,  I  was  anxious  and  afraid. 


La  Mouche  97 

as  I  would  have  been  for  any  other  of  our  country- 
men in  danger  of  being  captured  by  the  English. 
I  have  been  glad  because  of  your  escape,  and  I 
have  been  glad,  so  glad,  because  of  Larocque's 
escape.  But  oh,  mon  Dieu  !  "  she  continued,  her 
voice  changing  and  her  eyes  wandering  with  sud- 
den forgetfulness  from  the  face  of  La  Mouche, 
"  because  of  those  who  have  «£>/ escaped  my  eyes 
will  never  more  be  dry." 

To  this  La  Mouche  made  no  answer.  His 
heart,  too,  was  sore  with  grief  and  wrath,  for  he 
loved  his  countrymen  and  he  hated  all  the  enemies 
of  France.  But  at  this  moment  he  had  room  for 
no  emotion  except  his  hungry  love  for  the  girl 
beside  him.  His  heart  throbbed  in  his  throat, 
and  he  could  find  no  words.  In  silence  the  two 
walked  on,  and  the  chilly  autumn  dusk  gathered 
thicker  around  them. 

Presently  they  reached  the  pasture  bars.  In- 
stead of  lowering  them  for  the  girl  to  pass  out, 
La  Mouche  turned  around,  leaned  against  them, 
and  what  he  was  burning  to  say  trembled  upon 
his  lips.  But  Celeste  met  his  gaze  so  quietly 
that  he  was  disconcerted,  and  hurriedly  substi- 
tuted other  words. 


98  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

"  Your  father,"  said  he,  "  he  is  safe,  of  course. 
The  EngHsh  would  do  no  harm  to  him." 

"  They  are  kind  to  all  my  father's  house,"  re- 
plied Celeste. 

But  La  Mouche  had  again  found  his  voice. 
With  his  eyes  fixed  upon  a  piece  of  rough  bark, 
which  he  had  peeled  from  the  top  bar  and  was 
now  tearing  into  bits,  he  began,  hoarsely : 

"  Celeste,  I  must  ask  you  something.  No,  no, 
don't  speak  till  you  have  heard  me.  I  cannot 
keep  back  my  question  for  a  happier  time.  I 
must  ask  you  now,  because  all  my  future  hangs 
on  your  answer.  I  am  at  the  crossroads,  and 
you  will  decide  which  way  I  turn.  When  I  heard 
the  kindness  in  your  voice  a  few  minutes  ago  I 
thought  you  loved  me,  and  in  my  joy  I  spoke 
foolishly.  Forgive  me,  Celeste.  If  now  you  say 
you  do  not  love  me,  if  you  say  you  cannot  and 
will  not  learn  to  love  me,  then  this  night  I  leave 
this  land — my  fatherland — forever.  I  know  that 
never  again  will  the  Lilies  of  France  float  over 
my  Acadie,  for  the  English  have  set  their  teeth 
into  her  side,  and  they  will  not  let  go.  If  your 
heart  is  set  against  me.  Celeste,  I  will  go  to  Louis- 
bourg  and  fall  fighting,  I  pray,  in  that  great  war 


La  Mouche  99 

which  my  heart  hears  drawing  nigh.  In  the  lone- 
liness and  silence  of  my  hiding-place,  Celeste,  I 
have  seen  things  clearly  which  I  did  not  under- 
stand before.  I  have  seen  the  end  of  this  long 
strife.  I  have  seen  the  Lions  trample  the 
Lilies.  I  have  seen  the  mighty  walls  of  Louis- 
bourg  levelled  before  the  English  guns,  and  I 
have  seen  the  sheep  pasturing  over  her  grass- 
grown  ramparts.  My  part  is  with  this  ruin ;  but 
one  word  from  you  would  make  it  all  different  for 
me,  Celeste.  Your  people  are  now  to  become 
English.  For  your  sake,  I  will  tear  up  my  heart 
and  make  it  all  over  to  call  itself  English  too.  If 
you  will  but  let  me  hope  a  little,  I  will  give  in 
my  submission  to  the  Governor  at  Halifax,  and 
take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  English  King, 
and  turn  my  eyes  away  from  all  the  past.  They 
will  accept  my  oath,  even  at  this  late  day,  because 
they  would  rather  win  La  Mouche  for  a  friend 
than  punish  him  as  an  enemy.  And  they  know 
that  I  keep  my  word.  Celeste,  may  I  go  to  the 
English  Governor  ?  " 

As  he  concluded,  La  Mouche  leaned  forward  as 
if  to  take  the  girl's  hand.  Celeste  had  heard  him 
quietly,  but  upon  this  movement  she  drew  back 


loo  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

with  almost  harsh  abruptness.  At  another  time 
she  would  have  been  filled  with  pity;  and  she 
would  have  remembered  with  pride  that  La 
Mouche  was  one  whose  love  greatly  distinguished 
her  above  the  other  maidens  of  Grand  Pr6.  But 
just  now  she  was  thinking  of  a  sad-eyed  lad 
among  the  prisoners  in  the  chapel.  She  thought 
of  tall  young  Jules,  soon  to  sail  into  exile,  and 
never  again  to  know  the  comforts  of  her  hands. 
On  the  very  night  before  the  captivity  she  had 
given  him  the  promise  he  pled  for.  Her  heart 
filled  with  a  sudden  wild  bitterness  against  La 
Mouche.  Why  was  he  here,  free,  full  of  life  and 
strength  and  offering  her  a  love  she  did  not  want, 
while  Jules  was  a  hopeless  captive  ?  She  turned 
away  angrily,  saying,  in  a  hard  voice : 

"  Do  not  on  my  account  rob  France  of  your 
services,  Ba'tiste ;  for  I  shall  never  have  anything 
to  give  you  in  return." 

The  undeserved  sarcasm  in  her  tone  cut  La 
Mouche  to  the  quick,  and  his  keen  face  flushed 
darkly.  Twice  he  tried  to  speak,  but  speech  died 
on  his  lips.  Then  he  turned,  lowered  the  bars,  and 
let  Celeste  pass  through.  After  walking  beside 
her  in  silence  for  a  few  moments  he  said,  gently; 


La  Mouche  loi 

"  From  the  scorn  with  which  you  have  treated 
my  poor  offer,  Celeste,  I  may  gather  that  some 
one  more  fortunate  has  been  before  me." 

The  phrase  "  more  fortunate  "  was  fuel  to  the 
girl's  bitterness.     She  cried,  sharply: 

"It  is  more  fortunate  then,  to  be  dragged  a 
captive  among  strangers,  and  never  to  see  one's 
land  and  people  again  ? ' ' 

"  I  might  think  so.  Celeste,"  he  answered  in  a 
low  voice ;  but  in  an  instant  his  brow  knit  and  his 
voice  changed.  Scanning  the  girl's  face  he  went 
on,  with  slow  emphasis : 

"  I  think  I  remember  a  certain  long-legged, 
lamb-faced  weanling  called  Jules — I  forget  his 
other  name,  if  he  had  one — who  used  to  hang 
about  wherever  Mademoiselle  Celeste  Maillard 
might  chance  to  be,  and  blush  if  one  spoke  to 
him  suddenly.  He  seemed,  as  I  remember,  to 
have  much  concern  about  his  arms  and  legs.  I 
see  from  Mademoiselle's  face  that  I  have  guessed 
rightly."  Here  the  slow  words  began  to  cut  like 
steel.  "  Indeed,  I  feel  myself  much  honoured 
by  so  distinguished  a  rival!  " 

The  girl  stopped  short,  as  if  she  had  been 
stung,  and  faced  her  companion.     Even  through 


I02  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

the  dusk  he  could  see  the  blazing  wrath  of  her 
eyes. 

"  Coward!  "  she  said,  in  a  trembling  whisper, 
scarcely  able  to  control  her  breath.  "  Young  as 
he  is,  and  with  neither  blood  on  his  hands  nor 
stain  in  his  heart,  you  would  never  dare  speak 
that  way  to  his  face.  Go!  go!  lest  I  call  the 
English  soldiers!  " 

But  La  Mouche  did  not  go;  he  laughed  coolly. 

"  Doubtless,"  said  he,  "  his  mother's  milk  is 
by  this  time  quite  dry  upon  his  lips,  and  his 
mighty  sinews,  his  practised  weapons,  would  make 
short  work  of  me !  " 

"  Go !  go !  "  repeated  Celeste,  desperately ;  and 
the  next  instant  she  was  speeding  up  the  path. 

"  Wait!  "  commanded  La  Mouche;  and  to  her 
own  astonishment  Celeste  found  herself  pausing 
in  her  flight  and  listening,  with  sudden,  wild  ap- 
prehension for  what  the  woodranger  would  say 
next. 

"  I  will  go,  as  you  wish,"  and  his  voice  con- 
veyed to  her  soul  a  nameless  threat,  **  but  not  to 
Louisbourg.  Since  the  boy  has  dared  to  become 
my  rival,  I  must  honour  him  as  such  and  make 
him  realise  what  a  responsibility  he  has  assumed. 


La  Mouche  103 

Do  not  think,  Celeste,  that  La  Mouche  has  lost 
his  power,  or  that  I  cannot  reach  the  lamb-faced 
youth  in  his  prison  behind  the  English  guards! 
Moreover,  his  heart  is  yours — and  you  shall  have 
it!  I  will  send  it  to  you!  My  honour  will  not 
permit  me  to  let  the  English  keep  what  is  yoiirs !  " 
A  wavering  grey  figur?  in  the  gloom,  pausing 
on  tiptoe  as  if  for  instant  flight.  Celeste  had 
listened.  At  this  menace  of  La  Mouche  all  her 
pride  gave  way.  Her  heart  stood  still  with  fear 
for  her  young  lover.  Like  a  cold  wave  swept 
over  her  the  remembrance  of  La  Mouche's  relent- 
less will,  his  matchless  cunning,  his  patience  in 
pursuit  of  his  aim.  She  flew,  with  a  sob,  to 
throw  herself  at  his  feet  and  implore  his  pity  for 
Jules;  but  in  the  same  instant  he  was  gone; 
noiselessly  and  swiftly  as  a  ghost,  he  had  van- 
ished. The  dusky  thickets  had  swallowed  him. 
She  heard  not  a  sound  but  the  rough  tankle-tankle 
of  the  cow-bells.  She  threw  herself  down  on  the 
cold  moss  of  a  hillock  and  wept  and  besought 
the  Blessed  Virgin  to  guard  Jules;  and  during 
the  long  days  that  followed  before  the  next  ship 
was  to  sail,  her  sorrow  was  mixed  with  a  ceaseless 
anguish  of  fear. 


I04  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

One  evening,  just  two  days  before  the  em- 
barkation, Celeste  was  again  returning  through 
the  twilight  from  letting  out  the  cows  to  pasture. 
As  she  drew  near  the  cottage  a  well-known  form 
advanced  to  meet  her.  "With  joy  and  doubt  and 
wonder  her  knees  so  trembled  that  she  stopped 
and  clung  to  the  fence..  It  was  Jules.  In  an 
instant  he  was  at  her  side,  and  the  sorrow  and 
fear  were  forgotten.  But  presently  a  pang  tight- 
ened about  her  heart;  perhaps  Jules  had  but 
come  on  his  parole,  to  bid  her  a  last  farewell. 
She  could  hardly  frame  the  question;  but  Jules 
interrupted  it  with  the  assurance  that  he  was 
really  free — that  Colonel  Winslow  had  himself 
given  him  his  freedom,  though  for  what  reason 
he  could  not  dream. 

"  I  was  the  only  one.  Celeste.  He  came  with 
the  interpreter,  and  called  me  by  name.  And 
when  I  stepped  forward,  wondering,  he  told  me 
I  could  go  free,  and  that  I  must  take  the  oath 
and  be  a  loyal  subject  to  King  George.  Gladly  I 
took  the  oath ;  and  I  came  right  here ! ' ' 

To  Jules  it  was  enough  that  he  was  again  with 
Celeste,  and  he  had  not  yet  had  time  to  trouble 
himself  for  an  explanation  of  the  marvel.     But 


La  Mouche  105 

the  girl's  more  nimble  thought  was  casting  about 
for  a  clue,  and  suddenly  she  remembered  La 
Mouche,  and  her  flushed  cheek  turned  pale. 
Some  cunning  of  his  it  was,  surely,  that  had 
compassed  Jules's  escape,  in  order  that  he  might 
get  his  rival  within  reach  of  his  vengeance.  Her 
whole  being  quailed  at  this  proof  of  La  Mouche's 
power.  It  was  a  face  of  instant  despair  that  she 
raised  to  her  lover's,  as  she  asked : 

"  Have  you  seen  or  heard  anything  of  La 
Mouche  ? " 

Not  noticing  in  the  dusk  the  change  that  had 
come  over  her  countenance,  the  young  fellow 
answered  lightly : 

"Oh  yes,  I  saw  him  not  an  hour  ago." 

Intoxicated  as  he  was  with  his  delight,  he  nev- 
ertheless could  not  help  observing  that  Celeste 
clung  more  heavily  to  him  now ;  and  it  seemed 
to  him  she  would  have  fallen  if  he  had  not  held 
her  up  strongly. 

How  glad  she  is  to  see  me !  "  he  said  to  him- 
self, with  loving  pride. 

But  Celeste  whispered,  glancing  fearfully 
around : 

"  Where  was  he  ?  " 


io6  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  Oh,  La  Mouche  ?  " — Jules  spoke  somewhat 
impatiently — "  I  saw  him  in  the  chapel.  He 
was  rude  to  me." 

"  In  the  chapel!  "  echoed  Celeste,  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Yes;  but  what  do  you  care  about  La 
Mouche  ?  "  said  Jules. 

"  I  must  know.  It  is  important.  Tell  me  at 
once,  dear.  I  '11  explain  by  and  by,"  cried 
Celeste,  with  breathless  eagerness. 

Such  interest  in  La  Mouche,  and  just  at  this 
time,  appeared  to  Jules  unseasonable;  and  he 
gave  his  answer  with  a  certain  sullenness,  releas- 
ing Celeste  from  his  arms  as  he  spoke.  But  the 
girl  was  too  much  excited  to  heed  this. 

"  He  came  in  under  guard  about  half  an  hour 
before  I  was  set  free,"  said  Jules.  "  We  all 
crowded  about  him  to  learn  how  he  had  been 
captured.  He  looked  very  black  and  would  tell 
us  nothing;  but  he  spoke  civilly  enough  to  every 
one.  I  was  sorry  to  see  that  he  had  been  caught 
after  all ;  and  by  and  by  when  I  got  near  enough 
I  stretched  out  my  hand  and  tried  to  tell  him  so. 
But  the  impudent  dog  just  eyed  me  as  if  I  were 
so  much  dirt,  and  then  turned  his  back  on  me 


La  Mouche  107 

with  a  snarl.  Had  I  not  been  sorry  for  him  I 
should  have  struck  him  in  the  face,  though  he 
killed  me  for  it.  And  once  I  could  have  loved 
him  and  bowed  down  to  him,  because  he  has  done 
great  things  and  loves  our  people." 

"And  then  what  happened  ?  "  persisted  Celeste. 

"  Nothing!  "  said  Jules.  "  Oh,  yes,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  there  was  one  thing  rather  queer,  I 
thought.  After  a  few  minutes  he  looked  at  me 
again,  and  this  time  with  a  sort  of  sudden  fierce- 
ness. Then  he  strode  to  the  door  and  began 
talking  to  the  guards  as  if  he  owned  the  whole 
place,  and  was  going  right  out  when  he  wanted 
to.  I  could  n't  hear  what  he  was  saying,  and 
the  guards  did  n't  seem  to  understand  him.  But 
some  way  they  were  more  polite  to  him  than 
they  ever  were  to  any  of  the  rest  of  us.  While 
he  was  talking  to  them  along  came  Colonel  Wins- 
low.  And  the  first  thing  I  knew  I  was  free  and 
out  on  the  hills,  and  running  to  my  Celeste." 

While  he  was  speaking  the  truth  had  flashed  in 
upon  the  girl's  mind.  She  saw  the  whole  great- 
heartedness  of  La  Mouche,  the  splendour  of  self- 
sacrifice  which  had  been  veiled  behind  his  threats ; 
and  a  flood  of  passionate  pity  swept  over   her 


io8  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

for  the  man  whom  she  had  spurned  and  so 
harshly  wronged  in  her  judgment.  At  the  same 
time  the  cold  autumn  gloom  seemed  to  grow 
bright  about  her,  so  black  a  cloud  of  fear  was 
rolled  from  her  heart !  Jules  was  safe.  No  cun- 
ning and  resistless  sword  was  awaiting  his  throat. 
In  her  love  for  Jules  there  was  something  of  a 
mother's  protecting  indulgence,  and  it  never  oc- 
curred to  her  to  love  him  the  less  for  his  plain 
inferiority  to  his  rival.  La  Mouche  was  a  hero 
— brave,  strong,  famous,  faithful,  and  of  a  superb 
devotion,  for  which  she  felt  that  she  and  Jules 
must  always  worship  him !  But  as  for  Jules,  he 
needed  none  of  these  qualities;  it  was  enough 
that  he  should  be  himself!  Heedless  of  his 
slightly  aggrieved  air,  she  reached  her  arms  again 
about  his  neck  and  cried : 

"  Jules,  it  was  La  Mouche  who  set  you  free, 
because  I  told  him  I  loved  you.  He  has  given 
himself  up  to  the  English  in  exchange  for 
you." 

"  Mon  Dieul  "  muttered  the  lad;  "  and  just 
now  I  called  him  a  dog!  I  called  him  a  dog! 
Celeste,  Celeste !  "  he  went  on  in  the  bitterness 
of  self-abasement ;  '  *  how  can  you  love  me  when 


La  Mouche  109 

you  have  known  La  Mouche  ?  No,  no !  I  am 
not  worth  it !     I  will  go  back!  " 

He  undid  the  girl's  arms  firmly,  and  turned  to 
go;  but  she  was  otherwise  minded.  Before  he 
had  gone  far  she  had  brought  him  back  again. 
A  little  later  the  two  sat  hand  in  hand  before  the 
wide  hearth  of  Pierre  Maillard's  kitchen;  and  La 
Mouche  in  his  captivity  was  far  from  their  happy 
thoughts.  After  the  last  ship  had  sailed,  and 
Grand  Pr6  village  had  been  laid  in  ashes,  and  the 
storms  of  winter  had  lashed  the  naked  ruins,  and 
spring  had  brought  back  the  drift  of  blossom  to 
the  lonely  apple  trees,  a  farm  was  granted  to 
J  ules  and  Celeste  on  the  Gaspereau  slope,  beyond 
sight  of  the  ruined  village. 

And  La  Mouche  ?  He  had  been  sent  away  in 
the  very  ship  that  was  to  have  carried  Jules  into 
exile.  But  La  Mouche  was  not  one  whom  chains 
could  long  imprison.  Ere  the  ship  was  well  past 
Blomidon  he  had  roused  the  hearts  of  his  fellow- 
captives  by  whispered  word  and  look.  Down 
Fundy's  Bay  sailed  the  English  captain  without 
a  dream  of  danger,  till  suddenly,  in  a  thick  fog, 
the  prisoners  rose  as  one  man,  and  the  crew  were 
overpowered  before  they  could  make  resistance. 


I  lo  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

The  ship  was  run  into  the  rock-bound  harbour 
of  the  St.  John,  and  La  Mouche  led  his  followers 
ashore.  Some  of  them  went  up  the  river  to  form 
a  new  settlement ;  others  went  to  Louisbourg. 
And  La  Mouche  died  fighting,  when  came  that 
day  which  he  had  prophesied  to  Celeste — when 
the  mighty  fortress  of  Louisbourg  was  expunged 
like  a  wrong  score,  and  the  Lions  trod  down  the 
Lilies  in  the  garden  of  New  France. 


A  Tragedy  of  the  Tides 

THIS  is  the  story  of  the  fate  that  befell 
Lieutenant  Henry  Crewe  and  Margaret 
Neville,  his  betrothed,  who  disappeared  from  the 
infant  city  of  Halifax  on  the  afternoon  of  Sep- 
tember 1 8,  1749.  The  facts  were  gathered  by 
one  Nicholas  Pinson  from  the  mouths  of  Indians 
more  or  less  concerned,  from  members  of  the 
Neville  family,  and  from  much  sagacious  conject- 
ure; and  woven,  with  an  infinite  deal  of  irrelevant 
detail,  into  a  narrative  which  has  been  rigorously 
condensed  in  the  present  rendering.  The  indus- 
trious Pinson's  manuscript,  with  all  its  attenuated 
old  French  characters,  its  obscure  abbreviations, 
and  its  well-bred  contempt  for  orthographical  ac- 
curacy, might  perhaps  be  found  even  yet  in  the 
provincial  archives  at  Halifax.  At  least,  if  anyone 
be  curious  to  examine  this  story  in  the  original, 
just  as  M.  Pinson  wrote  it,  he  may  search  the 
archives  of  Halifax  with  a  reasonable  surety 
III 


112  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

that  the  manuscript  is  as  likely  to  be  found  there 
as  anywhere  else. 

There  was  a  faint,  opaline  haze  in  the  afternoon 
air,  and  in  the  still  waters  of  the  harbour  the  low 
hills,  with  their  foliage  lightly  touched  in  bronze 
and  amethyst  and  amber,  were  faithfully  repro- 
duced. Into  a  hollow  between  two  knolls  wooded 
with  beech  trees,  ran  a  shallow  cove,  its  clear 
waters  edged  with  sand  of  a  tender,  greenish 
grey.  Close  to  the  water's  edge  stood  the  lovers, 
and  across  the  silence  they  could  hear,  pulsating 
dimly,  the  hammers  of  them  that  were  building 
the  city. 

"  Listen,"  said  the  man,  as  he  drew  the  girl 
closely  to  him  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead ; 
"  those  are  the  strokes  that  are  making  a  home 
for  us." 

The  girl  lifted  her  lips  for  a  kiss  that  never 
reached  them.  The  man  was  seized  from  behind, 
a  dark  hand  covered  his  mouth ;  and  Lieutenant 
Henry  Crewe,  his  sword  unstirred  in  its  scabbard, 
found  himself  pinioned  hand  and  foot,  ere  he  had 
time  to  realise  that  other  arms  were  about  him 
than  those  of  the  woman  he  loved.  With  her  it 
fared  in  like  fashion,  save  that  before  they  covered 


A  Tragedy  of  the  Tides  113 

her  mouth  she  found  time  for  one  long  piercing 
cry.  It  was  heard  by  those  who  were  working  on 
the  city  palisades;  but  no  man  could  tell  the 
direction  whence  it  came.  Presently  a  search- 
party  set  out  for  the  thick  woods  lying  a  little 
north  of  west  from  the  city ;  but  in  the  meantime 
the  Indians  had  carried  their  captives  north-east- 
ward to  the  lakes,  and  were  making  all  speed  on 
the  Fundy  coast  by  way  of  the  Shubenacadie 
trail. 

Henry  Crewe  was  a  tall  man,  and  well  sinewed, 
and  for  a  brief  space  he  strove  so  fiercely  with  his 
bonds  that  his  fair  skin  flushed  well-nigh  purple, 
and  his  lips,  under  the  yellow  moustache,  curled 
apart  terribly,  like  those  of  a  beast  at  bay.  Un- 
able to  endure  the  anguish  of  his  effort,  Margaret 
averted  her  eyes,  for  she  knew  the  hopelessness 
of  it.  Like  all  the  Nevilles  of  Nova  Scotia  to 
this  day,  the  girl  was  somewhat  spare  of  form 
and  feature,  with  dark  hair,  a  clear,  dark  skin, 
and  eyes  of  deep  colour  that  might  be  either  grey 
or  green.  Her  terrible  cry  had  been  far  less  the 
utterance  of  a  blind  terror  than  a  deliberate  signal 
to  the  garrison  at  the  fort,  and  so  complete  was 
her  self-control  that  when  Crewe  presently  met 


114  By  t^^  Marshes  of  Minas 

her  gaze  his  brain  grew  clearer,  he  forgot  the  de- 
rision in  the  Indians'  painted  faces,  ceased  his 
vain  struggles,  and  bent  all  his  thought  to  the 
task  of  finding  means  of  deliverance. 

The  captives  were  thrown  into  canoes  and 
paddled  swiftly  to  the  head  of  the  long  basin 
which  runs  inland  for  miles  from  the  head  of  the 
harbour.  At  the  beginning  of  the  portage  their 
feet  were  unbound,  and  their  mouths  set  free 
from  the  suffocating  gags. 

"  Oh,  Margaret !  Margaret!  To  think  I  should 
have  brought  you  to  this!  "  exclaimed  Crewe  in 
a  harsh  voice,  the  moment  his  lips  were  free. 

The  girl  had  confidence  in  her  lover's  power  to 
find  some  way  of  protecting  her,  in  case  no  help 
should  come  from  the  city.  Her  sole  thought 
now  was  to  show  herself  brave,  and  in  no  way  to 
embarrass  his  judgment.  Before  she  could  an- 
swer, however,  the  leader  of  the  band  struck 
Crewe  across  the  mouth  with  the  flat  of  his 
hatchet,  as  a  hint  that  he  should  keep  silence. 
Had  Crewe  been  alone,  bound  as  he  was,  he 
would  have  felled  his  assailant  with  a  blow  of  the 
foot;  but  for  Margaret's  sake  he  forced  himself 
to  endure  the  indignity  tamely,  though  his  blue 


A  Tragedy  of  the  Tides  1 1 5 

eyes  flamed  with  so  dangerous  a  light  that  the 
Indian  raised  his  hatchet  again  in  menace.  The 
girl's  heart  bled  under  the  stroke  and  at  sight  of 
the  wounded  mouth,  but  she  prudently  abstained 
from  speech.  Only  she  spoke  one  word  in  a  low 
voice  that  said  all  things  to  her  lover's  ear,  the 
one  word  "  Beloved!  " 

To  the  chief  now  spoke  one  of  the  band  in  the 
Micmac  tongue : 

"  Why  not  let  the  paleface  talk  to  his  young 
squaw  ?  It  will  be  the  more  bitter  for  them  at 
the  last!" 

**  No,"  said  the  chief,  grinning;  "  it  is  as  death 
to  the  palefaces  to  keep  silence.  But  they  shall 
have  time  to  talk  at  the  last. ' ' 

Throughout  the  long  journey,  which  was  con- 
tinued till  midnight,  under  the  strong  light  of  a 
moon  just  at  the  full,  the  lovers  held  no  converse 
save  in  the  mute  language  of  eye  and  gesture, 
and  that  only  during  the  rough  marches  from  one 
lake  to  another.  The  greater  part  of  the  journey 
was  by  canoe.  At  night  they  were  lashed  to 
trees  some  way  apart,  and  separated  by  the  camp- 
fire.  Crewe  dared  not  address  a  word  to  Margaret 
lest  he  should  anger  his  captors  into  doing  him 


ii6  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

some  injury  that  might  lessen  his  powers  of 
thought  or  action,  and  the  girl,  seeing  that  no 
immediate  gain  could  be  had  from  speech, 
dreaded  to  be  smitten  on  the  mouth  in  a  way 
that  might  disfigure  her  in  her  lover's  eyes.  Only 
at  times,  when  a  wind  would  blow  the  smoke  and 
flame  aside,  she  looked  across  the  camp-fire  into 
the  young  man's  face,  and  in  the  look  and  in  the 
smile  of  the  steady  lips  he  read  not  only  an  un- 
swerving courage,  but  also  a  confidence  in  his 
own  resourceful  protection,  which  pierced  his 
heart  with  anguish.  All  night  he  pondered 
schemes  of  rescue  or  escape,  until  his  brain  reeled 
and  his  soul  grew  sick  before  the  unsolvable 
problem.  He  could  move  neither  hand  nor  foot, 
and  just  before  dawn  he  sank  to  sleep  in  his 
bonds.  Then  for  the  waking  girl  the  loneliness 
became  unspeakable,  and  her  lips  grew  ashen  in 
the  first  light  of  the  dawn. 

Late  on  the  following  day  the  band  drew  up 
their  canoes  on  the  banks  of  the  Shubenacadie, 
where  its  waters  began  to  redden  with  the  tide, 
and  struck  through  the  woods  by  a  dark  trail. 
The  next  day  the  captives  were  tortured  by  the 
sight  of  a  white  steeple  in  the  distance,  belonging 


A  Tragedy  of  the  Tides  117 

to  an  Acadian  settlement.  Crewe  judged  this 
to  be  the  village  of  Beaubassin.  The  surmise 
was  confirmed  when,  a  few  hours  later,  after  a 
wide  detour  to  avoid  the  settlement,  the  flag  of 
France  was  seen  waving  over  the  foliage  that 
clothed  a  long  line  of  heights.  By  this  time  the 
band  was  traversing  a  vast  expanse  of  salt  marshes, 
and  after  crossing  a  little  tidal  stream  near  its 
head,  they  turned  sharply  south-westward  toward 
the  sea.  Presently  the  raw  red  earthworks  of 
Beaus6jour  rose  into  view  some  seven  or  eight 
miles  distant  across  the  marshes.  There,  among 
his  bitter  enemies,  Crewe  knew  he  might  find  sure 
succour,  if  only  the  gallant  Frenchmen  could  be 
made  aware  of  what  was  passing  so  near  them. 
He  saw  Margaret's  eyes  fixed  with  terrible  appeal 
upon  the  hostile  works,  wherein  for  her  and  for 
her  lover  lay  safety ;  and  agonised  to  feel  his  utter 
helplessness,  he  raised  a  long  and  ringing  shout 
which,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  must  reach  the  very 
souls  of  those  behind  the  ramparts.  Margaret's 
heart  leaped  with  hope,  which  flickered  out  as 
she  saw  the  Indians  laugh  grimly  at  the  foolish 
effort.  To  be  within  sight  of  help,  and  yet  so 
infinitely  helpless!     For  the   first  time  the  girl 


Ii8  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

yielded  to  complete  despair,  and  her  head  sank 
upon  her  breast.  In  the  Journal  of  the  Sieur 
Carr6,  at  this  tinne  a  lieutenant  at  Beaus^jour, 
occurs  this  entry,  under  date  of  September  20, 
1749: 

"  Noted  this  morning  a  small  party  of  natives 
moving  down  the  shores  of  the  river  Tintamarre. 
Too  far  off  to  distinguish  whether  it  was  a  war 
party  or  not,  but  this  their  order  of  march  seemed 
to  suggest." 

After  skirting  for  perhaps  an  hour  a  red  and  all 
but  empty  channel,  which  Crewe  recognised  by 
hearsay  as  the  bed  of  the  Tantramar  (or  Tinta- 
marre, **  water  of  hubbub  "),  the  savages  sud- 
denly led  their  captives  down  the  steep,  gleaming 
abyss  of  mud  to  the  edge  of  the  shallow  current, 
which  now,  at  low  tide,  clattered  shrilly  seaward 
over  clods  of  blue  clay  and  small  stones  rolled 
down  from  the  uplands. 

Margaret  awoke  from  her  despair  enough  to 
shudder  disdainfully  as  her  feet  sank  more  than 
ankle-deep  in  the  clinging  ooze,  and  to  wonder 
why  the  Indians  should  halt  in  such  a  place. 
She  met  her  lover's  glance,  and  saw  that  he  was 
singularly  disturbed. 


A  Tragedy  of  the  Tides  1 19 

The  place  was  like  a  hideous  gaping  pit.  A 
double  winding  of  the  channel  closed  it  in  above 
and  below.  Some  forty  or  fifty  feet  over  their 
heads,  against  a  pure  sky  of  loveliest  blue,  waved 
a  shaggy  fringe  of  salt  grasses,  yellowing  in  the 
autumn  air.  This  harsh  and  meagre  herbage  en- 
circled the  rim  of  the  chasm,  and  seemed  to  make 
the  outer  world  of  men  infinitely  remote.  The 
sun,  an  hour  or  two  past  noon,  glared  down 
whitely  into  the  gulf,  and  glistened,  in  a  myriad 
of  steely  reflections,  from  the  polished  but  irregu- 
lar steeps  of  slime.  There  was  something  so 
strange  and  monstrous  in  the  scene  that  Mar- 
garet's dull  misery  was  quickened  to  a  nameless 
horror.  Suddenly  a  voice,  which  she  hardly 
recognised  as  that  of  her  lover,  said  slowly  and 
steadily : 

"  Margaret,  this  is  the  end  of  our  journey;  we 
have  come  to  the  end." 

Looking  up  she  met  Crewe's  eyes  fastened 
upon  her  with  a  gaze  which  seemed  to  sustain 
her  and  fill  her  nerves  with  strength.  With  the 
end  of  his  uncertainty  his  will  became  clear,  and 
his  resolution  as  perfect  as  tempered  steel.  An 
Indian  had  brought  two  stakes  and  thrown  them 


I20  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

on  the  mud  at  the  leader's  feet.  Margaret  looked 
at  the  rough-trimmed  saplings,  at  the  tide-mark 
far  up  the  dreadful  slope,  then  again  into  her 
lover's  face.  She  understood;  but  she  gave  no 
sign,  save  that  her  skin  blanched  to  a  more 
deathly  pallor,  and  she  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of 
poignant  regret :  "  Have  we  kept  silence  all  these 
long  hours  only  for  this  ?  And  I  had  so  much  to 
say  to  you ! ' ' 

"  There  will  be  time,"  he  said  gently,  and  his 
voice  was  a  caress.  "  The  flood-tide  has  not  yet 
begun,  and  it  will  take  some  hours.  And  it  was 
well,  dear,  that  we  could  not  speak;  for  so  you 
had  hope  till  the  last  to  support  you,  while  I  had 
none,  having  heard  the  Indians  say  we  were  to 
die,  though  they  said  not  in  my  hearing  when  or 
how.  Had  you  known,  you  might  not  have  had 
this  high  courage  of  yours,  that  now  gives  me 
strength  to  endure  the  utmost.  Dear,  your  heroic 
fortitude  has  been  everything  to  me." 

A  faint  flush  of  pride  rose  into  the  girl's  face, 
and  she  stretched  out  her  pinioned  arms  to  him, 
and  cried:  "  You  shall  not  be  deceived  in  me. 
I  will  be  worthy  of  you,  and  will  not  shame  our 
race  before  these  beasts." 


A  Tragedy  of  the  Tides  1 2 1 

By  this  time  the  stakes  were  driven  into  the 
strong  clay.  They  were  placed  some  way  up  the 
slope,  and  one  a  little  space  above  the  other.  To 
the  lower  stake  they  fastened  Crewe.  As  the 
girl  was  being  bound  to  the  other,  her  arms  were 
freed  for  a  moment  that  the  savages  might  the 
more  readily  remove  her  upper  garments,  and  by 
a  swift  movement  she  loosened  her  hair  so  that 
it  fell  about  her  to  her  knees, — the  splendid 
Neville  hair,  still  famous  in  the  Province.  There 
was  no  bounty  then  on  English  scalps,  and  the 
horror  of  the  scalping-knife  was  not  threatened 
them.  When  the  savages  had  made  their  task 
complete,  they  laughed  in  their  victims'  faces 
and  retreated  up  the  steep  and  over  the  grassy 
rim. 

"  Are  they  gone  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 

"  No,  they  are  lying  in  ^yait  to  watch  us,"  an- 
swered Crewe;  and  as  he  ceased  speaking  a 
muffled  sound  was  heard,  and  with  a  sudden 
hubbub  that  filled  the  chasm  with  clamour,  the 
first  of  the  flood-tide  came  foaming  round  the 
curve,  and  the  descending  current  halted  as  if  in 
fear  of  the  meeting.  The  next  moment  the  bed 
of  the  stream  was  hidden  by  a  boiling  reddish 


122  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

torrent,  racing  up  the  channel ;  and  the  tide  was 
creeping  by  inches  toward  the  captives'  feet. 
For  an  hour  or  more' the  bright  gulf  of  death  was 
so  loud  in  this  turmoil  and  with  the  echoes  from 
the  red  walls  of  mud,  and  the  yellow  eddies  of 
foam  whirled  and  swept  so  dizzily  past  their 
eyes,  that  the  captives'  senses  were  dulled  in  a 
measure,  as  if  by  some  crude  anodyne  or  vast 
mesmeric  influence.  When,  however,  the  chan- 
nel was  about  one-third  full  and  the  water  now 
beginning  to  cover  Crewe's  feet,  the  flood  became 
more  quiet  and  equable,  spreading  smoothly  over 
freer  spaces.  Presently  there  was  a  frightful 
silence,  intensified  by  the  steady  sunlight,  and 
broken  only  by  the  stealthy,  soft  rush  and  snake- 
like hiss  of  the  tide.  Then,  as  Margaret's  brain 
grew  clear  in  the  stillness,  a  low  cry,  which  tort- 
ured Crewe's  features,  forced  itself  from  her  lips. 
She  realised  for  the  first  time  why  the  stake  to 
which  she  was  bound  had  been  set  higher  than 
her  lover's.  She  would  watch  the  cruel  coloured 
water  creep  over  Crewe's  mouth,  then  cover  his 
eyes,  and  hide  at  last  the  brave  head  she  had 
longed  to  kiss,  ere  it  climbed  to  ease  her  own  lips 
of  life.     She  said :  ' '  Love,   I  will  lay  my  face 


A  Tragedy  of  the  Tides  123 

down  in  the  water  as  soon  as  it  is  near  enough, 
and  I  shall  not  be  far  behind  you." 

A  wide-winged  grey  gull,  following  the  tide  up 
the  channel,  gave  a  startled  cry  as  he  came  upon 
the  silent  figures,  and  rose  higher,  with  sudden 
flapping,  as  he  turned  his  flight  away  across  the 
marshes. 

In  the  Journal  of  the  Sieur  Carr6,  in  Beaus^jour, 
there  is  a  second  entry  under  the  date  of  Septem- 
ber 20,  1749.  It  was  added  on  a  succeeding  day. 
Translated  fully  it  runs  thus: 

"  In  the  afternoon  took  a  guard  and  marched 
across  the  Tintamarre  to  see  what  mischief  the 
redskins  had  been  at,  having  observed  them  to 
leave  two  of  their  number  in  the  channel,  and  to 
linger  long  on  the  brink,  as  if  watching  something 
in  the  stream.  It  was  within  an  hour  of  high  tide 
when  we  reached  the  spot,  the  savages  disappear- 
ing on  our  approach.  Saw  on  the  farther  shore  a 
piteous  sight,  whereat  our  hearts  burned  to  follow 
the  redskins  and  chastise  their  devilish  malice. 
A  woman  was  bound  to  a  stake,  her  face  fallen 
forward  in  the  water,  and  a  wonderful  luxuriance 
of  dark  hair  spread  about  her  and  floating  on  the 


124  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

current.  Swam  across  the  river,  with  those  of 
my  men  following  who  could,  and,  plunging  be- 
neath the  tide,  cut  her  bonds.  But  found  the 
life  had  fled,  at  which  we  wondered ;  for  had  she 
held  her  head  erect  the  water  would  not  yet  have 
been  within  a  little  of  her  chin.  But  presently 
we  found,  beneath  the  water,  the  body  of  a 
young  man,  bound  likewise  to  a  stake;  and  it 
seemed  to  us  we  thereupon  understood  why  the 
poor  lady  had  been  in  such  haste  to  die.  The 
lovers,  for  so  we  deemed  them,  were  plainly  Eng- 
lish, and  we  took  them  with  us  back  to  the  Beau- 
s6jour,  purposing  to  give  them  Christian  burial, 
— and  more  than  ever  cursing  the  hard  necessity 
which  forces  us  to  make  alliance  with  the  natives. ' ' 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare 

THE  sun  was  shining  hot  and  bright  in  my 
face  as  I  opened  my  eyes.  This  was  not 
unusual;  but  I  felt  a  moment's  wonder  at  the  in- 
tolerable inflexibility  of  my  couch.  Then  a  chok- 
ing sense  of  horror  came  over  me,  preceding  the 
realisation  of  my  miserable  plight.  I  sat  up, 
bracing  myself  with  my  hands  on  either  side  upon 
the  warm,  wave-rounded  rocks,  and  turned  my 
eager  gaze  toward  the  sea. 

A  few  paces  below  me  the  water  was  lapping 
with  a  simulated  mildness,  a  sort  of  reticent  pul- 
sation which  barely  hinted  at  the  turmoil  still 
prevailing  beyond  the  windless  shelter  of  the 
cove.  Past  the  yellow-brown  rock-jumble  of  the 
point,  the  waves  still  ran  high,  with  a  purple 
undertow  in  their  blueness,  which  told  of  a  fury 
not  yet  quite  assuaged. 

Farther  out,  perhaps  a  mile  from  my  refuge,  a 
low  reef  stood  up  sharply  from  a  snarl  of  white 
125 


126  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

surf;  and  on  the  easternmost  spur  of  it  clung  the 
fragment  of  a  ship's  prow,  with  bowsprit  pointing 
straight  heavenward.  I  noted  that  it  was  the 
time  of  low  tide,  which  counted  for  the  reef's 
exposure.  I  noted,  too,  but  without  even  the 
dullest  surprise,  that  no  living  soul  was  to  be 
seen  about  the  wreck.  Neither  was  there  wreck- 
age along  the  shore  anywhere  within  my  straining 
vision.  I  covered  my  eyes  with  both  hands,  and 
my  throat  contracted  in  a  dry  sob.  Of  the  merry 
little  company  that  had  sailed  from  Boston  for 
Halifax  in  the  God^s  Providence^  manifestly  it  was 
I  alone  who  was  left  alive. 

Presently  I  got  up,  resolved  that  in  this  bitter 
strait  I  would  yield  to  no  unnerving  remem- 
brances. What  had  fallen,  had  fallen.  I  would 
set  my  face  toward  the  days  to  come,  and  de- 
mand of  life  compensation  for  this  brute  buffet. 
The  sun  was  near  to  the  height  of  noon.  By 
journeying  a  little  to  the  west  of  north,  straight 
across  the  peninsula,  I  reckoned  I  should  without 
fail  strike  some  one  of  the  Acadian  settlements  be- 
tween Annapolis  and  Grand  Pr6 ;  for  I  calculated 
that  I  was  now  not  far  from  the  lonely  harbour  of 
Rossignot,  on  the  Atlantic  coast  of  Acadia. 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare      127 

Exhausted  to  the  verge  of  death  by  my  long 
swim  through  the  darkness,  I  had  slept  perhaps 
twelve  hours  there  on  the  naked  rocks,  and  the 
midsummer  sun  had  well-nigh  dried  my  uniform. 
My  hat  was  gone ;  my  black  hair,  at  all  times  re- 
bellious, was  now  confirmed  in  wiry  curls  crisp 
with  salt.  My  sword  was  still  at  my  side,  crusted 
into  the  sodden  scabbard.  I  drew  it  forth,  looked 
with  discontent  upon  the  swift  encroachment  of 
rust,  and  then  debased  it  to  the  task  of  prying 
oysters  from  the  rocks  for  my  noon  meal.  In 
faith,  I  had  a  hunger  that  proved  me  still  all 
sound  and  whole.  I  ate  abundantly,  not  knowing 
how  long  it  might  be  ere  I  should  again  have 
food  more  satisfying  than  the  berries  of  the  inland 
woods. 

The  beach  at  this  point  was  skirted  by  a  line  of 
cliff,  of  no  great  height,  but  just  here  in  a  measure 
unassailable. 

I  walked  perhaps  a  mile  to  the  west,  over  rock 
and  sand,  seeking  trace  of  my  lost  comrades. 
But  some  whimsical  current  of  the  coast  had 
carried  them  otherwheres.  Then,  scaling  the 
heights — if,  being  in  truth  so  low,  they  might  be 
called  heights  by  a  stranger's  courtesy, — I  retraced 


128  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

my  steps  to  a  point  immediately  overlooking  the 
spot  where  iny  senses  had  so  late  returned  to  me, 
wishing  from  that  elevation,  the  highest  in  the 
neighbourhood,  to  take  a  final  and  more  extended 
view  before  plunging  into  the  forest.  I  ap- 
proached the  fringe  of  green  shrub  which  masked 
the  brink  of  the  cliff.  But  on  the  instant,  instead 
of  parting  the  foliage  to  peer  forth,  I  dropped 
like  lightning  behind  its  shelter. 

Below  me,  so  near  that  I  might  have  dropped 
a  stone  among  them,  was  a  band  of  Indians,  the 
Micmacs  of  Acadia,  examining  with  attention  my 
footmarks  on  a  patch  of  sand,  and  gesticulating 
toward  the  wreck.  A  moment  more  and  they 
started  at  a  long,  deliberate  lope  along  my  trail. 

I  knew  of  these  Micmacs.  Just  at  this  time 
French  and  English  were  vying  with  each  other 
in  the  bloody  game  of  paying  for  scalps.  Never 
had  the  price  of  an  English  scalp  been  so  high. 
The  Micmacs  were  a  brave  and  businesslike  tribe, 
caring  little  for  bloodshed  in  itself,  but  quite 
merciless  when  they  had  an  object  in  view.  Scalp 
money  was  always  an  object.  When,  therefore, 
there  was  no  bounty  on  scalps,  they  took  prison- 
ers,  and   treated  them  with  easy  tolerance  till 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare       1 29 

exchanged.  With  a  price  on  scalps,  prisoners 
became  a  mere  tradition.  I  thanked  a  merciful 
Heaven,  therefore,  which  had  so  led  me  back 
upon  my  trail  and  warned  me  of  my  imminent 
peril.  I  praised  my  sires,  who  had  bequeathed 
to  me  great  strength  of  wind  and  limb  and  a  cer- 
tain handiness  in  running;  and  I  bethought  me 
of  some  cunning  in  woodcraft  learned  among  the 
rocky  hills  of  New  Hampshire.  It  was  not  with- 
out good  hope  of  baffling  my  sleuth-like  pursuers 
that  I  dropped  back  into  the  woods  and  ran,  at 
a  good  pace,  northward.  The  earth  being  soft 
here,  and  the  trail  broadly  palpable,  I  ran  straight 
without  subterfuge,  depending  upon  my  start  and 
my  speed  to  enlarge  my  distance. 

An  hour  later  I  came  out  upon  an  open,  ragged, 
hard-crusted  country  of  thickets  and  boulders. 
Here  I  ran  cunningly,  breaking  my  trail  from 
time  to  time,  and  seizing  every  chance  to  draw 
it  blind.  This  reach  of  barren  was  about  two 
leagues  across,  and  I  struck  the  thick  woodland 
again  at  a  point  much  west  of  the  general  trend 
of  my  course.  Here  encountering  a  shallow 
brook,  babbling  westerly,  I  trotted  with  patience 
down  its  shaded  channel  for  the  space  of  an  hour. 


130  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

Its  amber  stream  was  swept  in  places  by  sturdy 
boughs  of  ash,  maple,  or  water  birch;  and  by 
and  by,  feeling  spent,  I  swung  myself  neatly  up 
into  a  tree,  clambered  from  that  to  the  next,  and 
yet  the  next,  as  a  liveried  ape  might  have  done, 
and  coming  to  a  broad,  commodious  crotch, 
rested  moveless  for  half  an  hour.  Then,  feeling 
that  I  had  set  my  pursuers  a  task  to  try  their 
perspicacity,  I  dropped  to  the  mossy  ground  and 
hastened  directly  northward,  hungry  indeed,  but 
not  a  little  pleased  with  myself. 

While  it  wanted  yet  an  hour  or  more  of  sunset, 
the  woods  fell  away  before  me,  and  I  found  my- 
self on  the  edge  of  a  ravine  at  whose  bottom 
clamoured  a  living  little  river.  Two  or  three 
hundred  yards  to  the  right  the  ravine  turned 
northward  at  an  acute  angle.  There  was  a  blithe 
music  about  this  wilderness  water  which  made 
me  think  it  good  company  for  a  solitary  fugitive ; 
and,  moreover,  I  saw  no  chance  to  cross  it.  I 
resolved  to  follow  it  until  some  better  course 
should  present  itself. 

I  was  letting  myself  down  the  steep,  when 
from  the  corner  of  my  eye  I  caught  glimpse  of 
something    bright    a-flutter     on    the    wind.       I 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare       131 

raised  my  eyes — and  held  my  breath  with  aston- 
ishment. 

Straight  across  the  ravine,  scarce  fifty  paces  as 
the  bee  flies,  leaning  against  the  tilted  trunk  of 
an  old  birch  tree,  stood  a  young  girl,  her  profile 
toward  me,  gazing  down  into  the  swift  water. 
The  brightness  which  had  caught  my  eye  was  the 
streaming  of  a  yellow  silk  shawl  twisted  about  her 
waist  to  serve  as  a  girdle.  Her  hair,  fallen  loose 
and  smitten  by  the  sun,  was  of  a  deep  red,  the 
strangest,  most  living  red  I  had  ever  seen  in  a 
woman's  locks.  Of  a  dull  green  was  the  gown 
which  hung  almost  to  her  ankles,  showing  dainty 
yellow  leggings  of  deerskin.  Her  gown  had  no 
sleeves,  and  her  arms,  round  but  girlishly  slim, 
were  tanned,  like  her  face,  to  a  glowing  ivory 
richness.  The  profile  was  of  a  purity  that  made 
me  think  of  certain  engravings  from  old  Greek 
seals,  contained  in  a  folio  of  my  friend  Master 
Anthony  Apgood's,  in  Boston. 

For  some  seconds  I  almost  feared  to  breathe, 
lest  she  should  dissolve  and  vanish.  Then  I 
craved  to  see  her  full  face,  to  make  her  eyes  meet 
mine.  I  was  too  engrossed  to  marvel  at  such  a 
vision   appearing   in   the   wilderness   of  Acadia. 


132  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

Indeed,  I  am  of  the  temperament  to  which  mir- 
acles always  seem  more  probable  and  more  real 
than  the  platitudinous  sequence  of  expected 
things.  Presently  I  said,  speaking  clearly  but 
not  loudly : 

' '  Are  you  a  woman,  or  a  fairy,  or  the  witch  of 
these  wild  waters,  or  a  dream  ?  " 

With  a  slight  start,  she  lifted  her  head  and 
looked  at  me.  I  could  not,  at  the  distance,  tell 
the  colour  of  her  eyes,  but  they  were  very  large, 
set  far  apart  under  a  serene,  low  brow,  and  very 
dark.  They  rested  upon  me  with  a  mingling  of 
wonder  and  apprehension.  But  she  did  not 
speak. 

"  Plainly,"  thought  I,  "  she  does  not  under- 
stand English." 

But  in  French  I  felt  constrained  to  stick  to  the 
most  direct  and  simple  phrases. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  said  I,  "  I  am  a  stranger,  and 
pursued  by  enemies  who  seek  my  life.  I  am  an 
English  officer,  lately  shipwrecked  on  your  coast. 
I  beg  the  hospitality  and  protection  of  your 
house!  " 

Her  face  had  changed  as  I  spoke,  like  a  summer 
pool   under  veering  gusts.     First  pity;   then  a 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare       133 

darkening  of  anger;  then  compassion  again,  and 
a  rising  interest ;  then  fear.  And  straightway  she 
answered : 

**  Yes,  monsieur!  But,  oh,  no!  no!  There  is 
danger.  Do  not  come!  Go  away,  go!"  And 
pointing  vehemently  up  the  stream  she  turned 
and  vanished  behind  the  thick  branches. 

I  did  not  obey  the  gesture ;  and  the  tones  of 
her  voice  were  not  command  at  all,  but  entreaty. 
Moreover,  there  was  danger,  she  said.  The  dan- 
ger behind,  from  which  I  had  been  fleeing  so  dili- 
gently, was  forgotten,  and  even  more  diligently  I 
set  myself  to  seek  the  danger  lying  ahead.  I  de- 
sired it,  because  it  was  likely  to  afford  me  at  least 
one  further  chance  to  speak  with,  or  to  look  at, 
her. 

In  an  instant  I  was  at  the  water's  edge.  There 
was  no  practicable  ford ;  so  I  ran  in  feverish  haste 
down  the  bank. 

After  turning  the  abrupt  corner,  of  which  I 
have  already  spoken,  the  stream  ran  between 
smooth,  perpendicular  walls,  and  I  was  obliged 
to  climb  once  more  about  half-way  up  the  side  of 
the  glen,  which  now  swept  to  the  right  in  a  bold 
curve.     A   stone's   throw   farther   on,  the  walls 


134  ^y  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

parted,  and  I  found  myself  upon  the  lip  of  a 
mountain  tarn,  the  fairest  pool  my  eyes  had  ever 
rested  upon.  There  was  magic  in  the  transparency 
of  the  water,  whose  surface,  unruffled  save  where 
the  hurried  river  came  in,  flashed  with  its 
emerald  lights  along  the  nearer  shore.  In  three 
or  four  places  the  greenery  o*f  the  summer  forest 
slipped  fairly  down  to  the  water ;  but  everywhere 
else  a  smooth  wall  of  dark  yellowish  rock  rose  to 
a  height  of  ten  or  fifteen  feet  above  the  windless 
mirror.  The  whole  amphitheatre  engirdling  this 
liquid  crystal  was  not  a  third  of  a  mile  across. 
There  was  no  apparent  outlet  to  the  pool ;  but  as 
I  gazed  in  bewilderment  I  discovered  a  darkness 
in  the  rock  wall  opposite,  and. made  it  out  to  be 
the  mouth  of  a  low  cavern.  I  thought,  too, 
there  was  a  disturbance  of  the  water  at  that 
point,  and  concluded  that  the  pool's  overflow 
was  sucked  down  into  the  heart  of  the  hills. 

My  instant  desire  was  to  get  over  to  that  side 
of  the  water  where  the  vision  of  the  ravine  had 
disappeared.  But  straight  ahead  I  saw  a  little 
cottage,  of  a  rain-beaten  grey  and  with  wide, 
flaring  eaves,  snuggled  down  into  the  leafage. 
Here,    doubtless,    dwelt   the  lady  elusive;    and 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare      135 

hither  she  must  come  by  the  long  way  around  the 
pool.  I  resolved  to  be  there  ahead  of  her.  I  pushed 
forward  with  more  haste  than  circumspection. 

Through  the  partial  screen  of  branches  I  caught 
view  of  a  little  garden  plot,  neatly  tilled ;  and 
then  a  smooth  yard-space,  sloping  from  the  cot- 
tage threshold  to  the  pool.  The  place  looked 
not  perilous,  unless  its  very  magic  were  a  peril. 
There  was  no  wind,  the  circumscribing  hills  being 
so  high.  There  was  no  sound,  not  so  much  as  of 
a  bird  singing,  or  a  hyla  piping  in  the  leaves. 

But  suddenly  from  up  the  veiled  slope  came  a 
low,  swishing  murmur  as  of  a  body  pushing 
swiftly  through  a  grain  field.  I  could  not  explain 
it;  and  there  was  something  ominous  about  it. 
Instantly  on  the  alert,  I  drew  away  from  the 
thicket  and  nearer  to  the  rock-rim  of  the  pool. 
A  moment  later  the  thicket  swayed  with  noiseless 
vehemence. 

Instinctively  I  sprang  aside,  drawing  my  sword 
in  the  same  motion ;  and  as  I  did  so  a  long,  yel- 
low body  shot  from  the  leafage.  In  the  ruddy 
light  it  was  like  a  glowing  thunderbolt.  I  saw 
the  flattened  ears,  the  wide,  greenly  flaming  eyes, 
the  set,  bared  claws. 


136  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

Had  I  not  jumped,  the  panther  would  have 
caught  me  on  the  shoulders.  But  I  had  jumped, 
and  as  the  shape  of  death  passed  by  through  the 
air  my  sword  pierced  it  in  mid-loins,  smoothly. 

There  was  a  harsh  sound ;  and  clinging  to  the 
sword-hilt  I  was  thrown  to  my  knees,  as  the  bulk 
went  on.  My  grip  was  not  to  be  broken,  so  the 
steel  dragged  clear  again ;  and  the  beast,  doubling 
himself  under  the  stroke,  came  to  the  ground 
upon  his  head  and  rolled  over  the  clean  brink  into 
the  water.  I  sprang  to  look  down,  and  saw  him 
sink  like  lead,  leaving  a  discoloured  foam  behind 
him. 

It  was  a  neat  stroke,  neatly  timed.  I  wiped 
my  sword  with  no  small  satisfaction. 

But  as  I  looked  up  again,  toward  the  cottage, 
the  complacency  upon  my  face  must  have  faded 
into  anxious  amazement.  The  new  foe  whom  I 
saw,  darting  toward  me  in  malignant  and  ominous 
silence,  was  of  a  fashion  quite  strange  to  me.  At 
first  glance  I  did  not  recognise  it  for  human ;  but 
then  I  perceived  it  to  be  a  baboon-like  dwarf, 
with  square  head  set  close  upon  shoulders  of 
amazing  breadth,  and  arms  of  such  a  length  as  to 
almost  reach  the  ground.     His  twisted  legs  were 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare       137 

ludicrously  thin  for  the  support  of  his  misshapen 
trunk,  but  were  sufficient  to  propel  him  toward 
me  with  a  speed  which  seemed  beyond  all  neces- 
sity. He  wore  a  coat  of  ragged  fur  which  added 
to  his  brute-like  aspect ;  and  his  mouth  was  wide 
grinning,  like  an  angry  but  breathless  dog's.  All 
this  was  no  more  than  interesting  to  me;  but 
there  was  something  else  that  at  first,  I  confess, 
went  far  to  shake  my  self-possession.  His  hair- 
less face  was  blue — a  horrid,  unnatural  colour.  I 
could  see  that  his  strength  was  greater  than  that 
of  ordinary  men ;  yet  he  seemed  to  me  rash  iii 
attacking,  unarmed,  one  who  had  just  shown 
himself  at  least  a  ready  swordsman. 

He  was  descending  upon  me,  not  twenty  paces 
distant ;  and  his  yellow  eyes,  boring  into  mine, 
seemed  like  sword-blades  in  themselves.  I  stood 
lightly  balanced,  ready  and  determined  not  to 
kill  if  I  could  avoid  it ;  for  this  horrible  being,  I 
guessed,  was  a  servitor  to  the  maid  of  the  rocks. 
Suddenly  a  huge  knife,  whipped  from  under  the 
ragged  coat  of  fur,  was  hurled  at  me,  swift  and 
illusive  as  a  flash  of  light. 

My  readiness  saved  me,  however.  I  swerved 
at  the  same  breath.     With  a  lightning  parry,  my 


138  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

sword  turned  the  vicious  missile,  and  it  went 
hurtling  idly  aside  into  the  underbrush.  On  the 
very  hiss  of  his  diverted  weapon,  however,  came 
my  antagonist.  It  was  no  moment  for  the  court- 
esies of  the  code.  Perforce  I  stooped  to  tricks — 
in  fact,  to  this  trick, — I  fell  down  so  that  in  falling 
my  outstretched  foot  intercepted  his  ridiculous, 
spindling  shanks.  With  a  kind  of  squeal  of  rage 
and  terror,  he  went  sprawling  headlong  over  the 
brink,  vainly  clutching  for  a  hold,  I  heard  him 
splash  heaving  into  the  emerald  crystal  of  the 
pool. 

In  leisurely  fashion  I  stepped  to  the  brink  to 
look  down  upon  my  discomfited  assailant,  whose 
wrath  I  hoped  would  be  something  cooled  by  the 
bath.  To  my  surprise,  I  saw  that  he  could  not 
swim.  A  pillow  of  air  beneath  his  skin  coat  kept 
him  grotesquely  buoyed  up  for  the  moment,  but 
he  was  aimlessly  thrashing  the  water  with  his  long 
arms,  and  his  set  eyes,  staring  with  deadly  fear, 
were  fixed  upon  a  point  in  the  rock-wall  about 
fifty  yards  to  the  left  of  where  I  stood. 

I  was  puzzled  at  this.  Then  I  noted  that, 
placid  as  the  pool  appeared,  there  was  a  current. 
The  dwarf  was  already  several  yards  away.     I 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare      139 

craned  my  neck  over  the  brink,  to  follow  his 
agonising  gaze.  I  saw  a  slight,  oil-smooth  de- 
pression there  under  the  rock  wall.  It  was  plain 
the  pool  had  two  underground  outlets,  which 
probably  united  somewhere  in  the  bowels  of  the 
mountain.  Even  as  I  looked,  I  saw  the  tawny 
carcase  of  the  panther  I  had  slain  lurch  slowly  to 
the  surface  just  at  the  lip  of  that  malignant 
smoothness,  then  vanish  with  a  kicking  plunge, 
as  if  snatched  by  an  unseen  hand. 

I  understood  my  enemy's  terror.  Glancing 
down  upon  him  "with  something  like  compassion,' 
I  caught  his  eye  upturned  to  mine  with  a  wild 
appeal  which  would  surely  have  melted  me  had 
he  been  the  devil  himself.  I  remembered  that 
great  knife  darting  at  my  throat.  I  thought  of 
what  might  have  been  the  choking  clutch  of 
those  huge,  hideous  hands.  But  it  was  not  to  be 
endured  that  the  creature  should  go  shrieking 
down  that  vortex  under  the  rock.  I  threw  ofT 
my  sword  belt. 

"  Courage!  "  I  cried  to  him  in  French;  "I  *11 
pull  you  out,  my  lad !  "  and  over  I  went. 

God!  but  that  fair  water  was  cold,  cold  be- 
yond telling!     I  shuddered  and  gasped,  and  felt 


140  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

for  half  an  instant  curiously  afraid.  Then,  with  a 
vexed  laugh,  I  got  grip  on  my  nerve  again.  Half 
a  dozen  strokes  and  I  was  up  to  my  adversary. 
Just  out  of  reach  of  his  long,  struggling  arms  I 
paused. 

"Keep  still!"  I  ordered,  sternly.  "Don't 
touch  me!     I  '11  save  you!  " 

The  threshing  stopped.  Swimming  around  be- 
hind him,  I  seized  him  by  the  neck  of  his  jacket, 
and  struck  out  for  shore,  aiming  at  a  point  some 
five  rods  farther  up,  where  the  cliff  was  broken 
down  sufficiently  to  afford  a  landing. 

Not  till  I  tried  to  swim  against  it  did  I  realise 
the  force  of  the  glassy  current  which  was  drawing 
us  so  noiselessly  toward  that  horrible  pit.  There 
seemed  a  cruel  magic  in  it;  or  possibly  it  was 
the  depressing  influence  of  the  cold,  and  of  the 
strange,  ghostly  twilight  now  settling  upon  the 
pool,  that  deadened  my  forces.  The  light, 
seeming  to  wave  across  the  water  as  an  enchant- 
ment, was  a  mingling  of  the  sunset's  amber  green 
with  pinkish  rays  of  a  distorted  moon  just  rising 
through  the  hilltop  firs.  Through  this  elvish 
atmosphere  I  swam  painfully,  slowly,  and  with 
something  of  a  panic  dread  close  upon  my  heels. 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare      141 

When  we  reached  the  broken  rocks  I  know  not 
which,  the  dwarf  or  I,  was  in  the  greater  haste  to 
climb  ashore. 

It  never  occurred  to  me  that  there  could  be 
anything  more  to  be  dreaded  from  the  creature  I 
had  just  saved;  but  I  was  not  prepared  for  the 
idolatrous  fervour  with  which,  as  soon  as  we  had 
both  gained  the  top  of  the  rocks,  he  threw  him- 
self at  my  feet.  Looking  up  at  my  face,  his 
mouth  wide  with  a  grin  which  was  now  sheer 
ecstasy,  he  fawned  upon  me  like  a  dog. 

"  Master,  I  did  n't  know  you  were  good,"  he 
cried  in  a  voice  that  was  soft  and  sweet,  but  a 
French  that  was  so  barbarous  I  could  scarce  com- 
prehend it.  "I  thought  you  wished  to  hurt 
Reine,  my  mistress.  I  was  angry  when  you 
killed  Reine's  tiger.  But  now  I  know  you  have 
the  kind  heart,  and  will  take  care  of  Reine  better 
than  I  and  the  tiger  could.  Forgive  me,  mas- 
ter! " 

His  hideous  face  looked  kindly  and  gently  now, 
and  so  like  that  of  some  faithful  but  miraculously 
blue-faced  dog  that  I  half-expected  him  to  lick 
the  hand  that  I  put  forth  to  raise  him. 

"  Get    up,    lad,"    said    I,   slightly  laughing. 


142  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

*.*  You  were  only  trying  to  protect  your  mistress, 
so  we  '11  let  bygones  be  bygones.  I  fear  I  shall 
have  to  beg  you  and  your  mistress  to  protect  me 
before  many  hours  go  by.  Take  me  to  her, 
pray." 

**  She  is  here,  monsieur,  and  has  no  words  to 
thank  as  you  deserve  for  the  rescue  of  her  loved 
and  faithful  servant,"  said  a  clear,  sweet  voice  at 
my  side. 

It  was  the  French  of  gentlefolk.  I  turned,  my 
veins  thrilling  with  pleasure  and  surprise.  The 
lady  of  the  ravine  was  beside  me. 

"  But,  to  my  great  sorrow,  I  was  compelled  to 
kill  another  favourite  of  yours,  mademoiselle,"  I 
cried.  "  Your  great  panther  gave  me  a  most  in- 
hospitable greeting.     Will  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

**  Poor  kitten!"  she  exclaimed,  a  sadness  in 
her  voice.  And  then,  with  a  faint  smile:  "  He 
was  apt  to  be  hasty  with  strangers!  You,  mon- 
sieur, came  especially  within  the  eye  of  his  anger, 
by  reason  of  your  red  coat.  He  had  been  taught, 
from  a  cub,  to  spring  upon  and  tear  a  red  coat. 
But  what  is  this  protection  you  ask  of  such  poor 
and  lonely  folk  as  Bebe  and  me  ?  " 

Devout  as  I  was,  in  the  sanctity  of  the  air  with 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare      143 

which  her  loveliness  and  gentleness  enclosed 
her,  I  could  not  but  smile  at  the  name  which  so 
exquisitely  misbecame  her  sturdy  and  horrible- 
visaged  servitor.  A  gleam  of  answering  amuse- 
ment flashed  for  a  second  into  the  serious,  wide 
intentness  of  her  gaze,  showing  the  chances  of 
mirth  beneath  the  Madonna  calm.  But  I  spoke 
only  of  my  plight. 

"  I  see  plainly  that  you  cannot  help  me — that 
I  should  only  involve  you  in  my  own  ruin !  "  said 
I.  "  Therefore,  I  must  bid  you  farewell  and 
hasten  onward!  " 

In  truth,  this  resolution  came  hard ;  for  I  felt 
that  the  neighbourhood  of  this  mysterious 
maiden,  this  aristocrat  of  the  wilderness,  who 
kept  panthers  trained  to  tear  red  coats,  and  blue- 
faced  dwarfs  to  leap  upon  unbidden  visitors, 
was  where  my  desire  was  straitly  tethering  me. 
Moreover,  I  had,  in  fact,  no  great  fear  of  the 
savages,  for  I  flattered  myself  I  had  thrown  them 
quite  off  the  trail. 

"  You  shall  not  evade  my  hospitality  so,  mon- 
sieur! "  she  replied,  quietly  positive.  "  Bear  in 
mind  that  we  are  solitary  here,  and  having  killed 
poor  kitten  you  owe  us  at  least  some  entertain- 


144  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

ment.  Tell  me  your  peril — and  that  will  tell  me 
what  brings  you  to  the  shunned  valley  of  Belle 
Mare." 

"  A  word  explains  it  all,  mademoiselle,"  said  I. 
"  I  am  an  English  officer.  The  ship  on  which  I 
was  voyaging  from  Boston  to  Halifax  was  wrecked 
on  your  coasts  last  night.  I  alone  escaped  to 
land.  A  band  of  savages,  discovering  my  foot- 
steps on  the  sandy  beach,  have  followed  me, 
coveting  the  price  of  my  scalp.  I  think  I  have 
outwitted  them ;  but,  if  not,  they  must  be  here 
within  the  hour.  I  must  be  gone,  or  their  feroc- 
ity will  turn  upon  you. "  And  bowing  low,  I  set 
my  face  toward  the  northward  steep. 

"  Stay,  monsieur  I  "  she  said,  putting  her  hand 
upon  my  dripping  sleeve  to  detain  me,  whereat  I 
stopped  perforce.  "  No  Indian  will  dare  to 
molest  you  here!  " 

The  dwarf,  who  had  been  crouching  at  our 
feet,  his  long  arms  spread  raptly  up  into  our  faces, 
arose  nimbly. 

"  Redskins!"  he  muttered,  with  scorn,  very 
humanly  oblivious  to  the  peculiarities  of  his  own 
complexion,  and  waddled  swiftly  to  fetch  my 
sword  and  belt.     Clearly  my  hosts  had  nothing 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare      145 

to  fear  from  the  savages,  even  if  they  should 
come  to  Belle  Mare. 

**  Then  I  am  most  gladly  and  gratefully  at 
your  service,  most  gracious  one,"  said  I. 

Side  by  side,  the  dwarf  at  our  heels,  we  walked 
up  through  the  sweet-smelling  shrubs  toward  the 
lawn  before  the  cottage  porch.  With  the  whiten- 
ing moonlight  the  air  of  the  valley  grew  chill; 
but  there  was  no  mist.  The  clearness  was,  some- 
how, like  that  of  a  magic  crystal.  The  common 
world  of  men  was  eternities  behind  me.  The 
grave,  beautiful  girl  at  my  side,  in  the  green 
gown  that  seemed  to  melt  into  the  leafage,  was 
half-enchantress,  half-child,  but  all  a  queen,  a 
queen  of  faeries.  I,  a  sober  New  Englander,  an 
officer  in  the  royal  army,  with  a  substantial  es- 
tate in  New  Hampshire  and  certain  substantial 
and  circumspect  kinsfolk  in  Boston,  was  burning 
to  lay  all  my  substance  and  respectability  at 
her  little  moccasined  feet.  Oh,  it  was  sorcery, 
doubtless!  How  painfully  unusual  the  Blue 
Dwarf  would  look  on  Beacon  Street !  I  pinched 
myself  hard,  and  listened  for  some  sound  that 
might  awake  me  from  the  delusion  of  all  my 
other  senses.    There  was  no  sound  save  a  remote. 


146  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

obscure,  sucking  gurgle,  where  the  glassy  water 
of  Belle  Mare  went  down  the  sink. 

I  turned  for  refuge  to  the  sound  of  my  own 
voice. 

"  Mademoiselle  Reine,"  I  said,  "  why  did 
you 

"  My  name  is  Lys,"  she  interrupted,  smiling. 
"  Reine  is  but  Bebe's  name  for  me." 

"  I  know  not  which  is  the  more  supremely 
fitting,"  I  rejoined,  "  or  whether  you  be  most  a 
queen  or  most  a  flower." 

This  was  not  the  direction  of  escape  to  explain 
sanity,  so  I  continued :  "  Tell  me,  then,  O  queen 
of  lilies,  why  that  amiable  panther  who  fell  upon 
my  sword-point  had  been  taught  by  you  to  rend 
a  scarlet  coat." 

"  It  was  my  father  taught  him,"  she  answered. 
"  He  came  here,  years  ago,  bringing  Bebe  and 
me,  a  child  of  six.  Since  then,  monsieur,  with 
the  exception  of  my  dear  father,  you  are  the  only 
man  of  my  own  kind — of  gentle  breeding,  I  mean 
— whom  I  have  seen.  My  father  had  suffered 
some  great  wrong  at  the  hands  of  the  English 
soldiery — I  know  not  what,  but  it  was  ever  on  his 
mind,  and  when  Bebe  found  the  panther  cub  my 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare      147 

father  brought  it  up  so  that  it  might  kill  an  Eng- 
lish soldier  if  ever  it  should  see  one.  To  us  the 
kitten  was  gentle  and  loving.  My  father  died 
three  years  ago.  He  was  a  great  scholar.  He 
taught  me.  Since  his  death  I  have  been  most 
wretched.  But  my  faithful  Bebe  takes  care  of 
me.  I  have  my  harp,  my  books.  And  some 
day,  if  the  saints  permit,  I  shall  go  back  into  the 
wonders  of  the  great  world !  ' ' 

**  The  great  world,  mademoiselle,  contains  no 
such  wonder  as  yourself!  "  I  exclaimed. 

As  we  came  at  this  moment  to  the  cottage 
door,  she  made  no  reply  to  this  blunt  assault, 
but  welcomed  me  sweetly  over  the  thres- 
hold. 

There  was  no  hallway.  I  found  myself  at  once 
in  a  small  but  well-appointed  living-room.  The 
broad  moonlight,  flooding  through  two  windows, 
showed  books  all  about  the  walls,  a  settee  and  low 
chair  or  two  draped  with  skins,  and  a  gilded  harp 
beside  the  open  fireplace.  Through  a  doorway 
on  the  left  came  a  warm,  wavering  light  from  the 
kitchen  hearth. 

"  Well  have  you  called  the  place  '  Belle  Mare,* 
mademoiselle,"   said    I,    intoxicated    with    the 


148  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

beauty  of  herself  and  this  her  little  kingdom  of 
dream. 

Before  she  could  reply  there  came  a  long  hail 
across  the  water,  and  she  laughed  softly. 

"  There  they  are,  your  Indian  friends,  mon- 
sieur! "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  do  not  find  our 
Acadian  savages  so  easy  to  throw  off  the 
trail!" 

A  wave  of  horrible  misgiving  passed  over  me. 
What  if  the  bloodthirsty  wretches  should,  after 
all,  turn  upon  her !     I  felt  for  my  sword-hilt. 

"  Are  you  sure,  mademoiselle,"  I  pleaded  in  a 
voice  whose  intensity  must  have  told  her  more 
than  the  words  could,  "  that  they  will  not  harm 
or  annoy  you  ?  Unless  you  are  quite  sure,  I  will 
go  out  and  give  myself  up  at  once!  " 

"  Oh,  hush!  "  she  cried,  putting  out  her  hand 
with  a  little  detaining  gesture  which  made  my 
heart  jump.  "  I  mean,  certainly  they  will  not 
harm  me,  or  you,  or  Bebe,  or  this  place.  Only 
they  will  delay  supper,  and  you  are  wet  and 
hungry,"  she  added  lightly. 

Meanwhile  the  dwarf,  stepping  out  upon  the 
moonlit  grass,  had  answered  the  hail  with  a 
peculiar  cry. 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare      149 

"  Is  the  good  panther  tied  up,  father  ?  "  came 
the  question,  in  broken  French. 

"It  is  dead.  You  can  come  in  safety,"  an- 
swered the  dwarf.  The  sounds  carried  like  bell- 
notes  on  the  clear  air. 

"  Will  they  come  in  here  ?  Will  they  see 
you?  "  I  asked,  still  doubtful. 

"  No;  Bebe  will  talk  to  them,  and  send  them 
away,"  said  she.  "  They  think  him  a  kind  of 
god,  and  almost  worship  his  poor  blue  face." 

"  What  will  he  tell  them  ?  "  I  questioned. 

"  We  will  stand  here  at  this  side  of  the  win- 
dow, where  they  can't  see  us,"  she  replied, 
taking  my  hand  in  her  soft  little  fingers  and  be- 
stowing me  in  the  spot  she  thought  fitting. 
"  And  you  shall  hear  for  yourself  just  what  my 
good  Bebe  may  decide  to  say.  I  leave  all  these 
things  to  his  sagacity." 

The  squat  monster  took  on  a  new  interest  in 
my  eyes;  but  as  I  looked  at  him,  waiting  there 
in  the  moonlight  with  a  grotesque  dignity  that 
made  me  feel  like  the  spectator  of  an  acted  fairy 
tale,  I  was  conscious  of  one  thing  most  real. 
That  was,  the  slight,  bewildering  warmth  of  her 
bare  arm,  as  she  stood  close  to  my  side.     That, 


150  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

just  then,  was  the  great  thing.  The  approaching 
savages,  hungry  for  my  scalp,  were  an  episode. 

We  stood  in  a  pujsing,  eloquent  silence,  as  the 
savages  came  trotting  in  single  file  along  the  river 
of  the. pool,  and  up  the  slope — a  full  score  of 
them  in  their  paint  and  feathers.  Not  a  word 
was  said  as  they  came  up.  Four  or  five  paces 
from  the  motionless  dwarf  they  stopped,  ranging 
themselves  in  a  semicircle  before  him,  and  waited. 

"  Well!"  said  Bebe,  in  a  tone  which  meant 
"  Go  on.     Say  what  you  want." 

The  leader  held  out  his  hand,  palm  up,  with  a 
gesture  of  deference. 

"  The  wise  father  knows,"  said  he,  "  that  we 
seek  the  stranger,  the  Englishman,  our  enemy." 

"  Yes!  "  said  Bebe,  coldly. 

"  Let  not  the  wise  father  be  angry,"  went  on 
the  savage  orator.     "  Is  the  stranger  here  ?  " 

"  He  is  in  the  house,"  answered  the  dwarf, 
with  deliberate  calm. 

"  Will  not  the  wise  father  send  him  forth  to 
us  ?     He  is  ours!  "  urged  the  redskin. 

The  dwarf  seemed  suddenly  to  tower,  and  a 
great  voice  came  from  him  that  filled  all  the 
valley. 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare      151 

"  Fools!  "  rang  the  trumpet  of  his  throat. 
"  He  is  not  yours!  He  is  mine!  Would  you 
bid  me  betray  my  guest  ? ' ' 

The  semicircle  seemed  to  shrink,  each  man 
drawing  closer  to  his  fellow.  Then  the  dwarf's 
voice  softened,  grew  tender  and  persuasive. 

"  Sit  and  I  will  talk  to  you  a  little,"  said  he. 

Instantly  they  squatted  themselves  upon  their 
haunches,  knees  up  nearly  to  their  chins,  atten- 
tive, obedient,  Utterly  ridiculous  figures,  stiff  as 
wooden  images.  Their  eyes,  full  of  awe,  followed 
the  dwarf  as  he  moved  slowly  to  and  fro  from  one 
tip  of  the  crescent  to  the  other,  fixing  each  Indian 
in  turn  with  his  magnetising  stare. 

"  Listen,  my  children,"  he  began  at  length, 
"  and  I  will  tell  you  all,  that  I  may  not  seem  to 
do  you  any  injustice.  My  great,  white  father, 
who  was  gathered  to  his  fathers  three  winters 
back,  and  who  was  ever  your  kind  friend,  left 
behind  him  in  his  own  country  a  sister  who  was 
married  to  an  Englishman.  That  sister  had  a 
son,  a  boy  in  those  days.  He  grew  to  manhood, 
and  became  a  great  warrior  among  the  English, 
our  enemies.  But — he  is  Reine's  cousin!  My 
children,  the  stranger  whom  you  pursue  is  that 


152  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

Englishman,  my  white  father's  sister's  son, 
Reine's  cousin!  " 

He  paused,  dramatically.  The  savages  grunted 
comprehension.  I  turned  to  the  girl,  full  of 
wonder  at  such  readiness.  Her  eyes  were  shin- 
ing, her  lips  parted.  The  tale  did  not  displease  her. 

Presently  the  dwarf  resumed  his  harangue, 
gravely  gesticulating. 

"  The  stranger,  no  stranger,  but  our  close  kin  " 
(I  saw  Reine  smile  at  this  stupendous  claim) 
"  was  on  his  way  to  find  us  when  the  storm  over- 
whelmed his  ship.  He  escaped.  You  followed, 
thirsting  for  his  innocent  blood."  (Here  the 
voice  again  awoke  the  echoes  over  the  water.) 
"  Had  you  slain  him —  "  he  stopped,  and  in  his 
silence  there  was  a  menace  at  which  his  red  listen- 
ers shuddered.  Even  I  felt  the  threat.  Then  his 
voice  grew  gentle  again.  "  But  you  did  not 
know,  my  children,  and  I  forgive  you.  The 
Englishman  will  rest  here  with  us  till  the  moon 
of  the  morning  hoarfrosts."  (I  looked  at  my 
beautiful  companion,  and  her  eyes  said  yes  to  the 
surprising  statement.)  "  Then,  for  a  time,  he 
will  take  us  to  Reine's  people  and  his  people." 
(I  thrilled  wildly  at  this.      **  I  have  a  mother 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare      153 

who  would  love  you.  May  I  ?"  I  whispered; 
and  got  no  direct  denial.)  "  Then,  my  children, 
he  will  marry  Reine,  and  we  will  come  back  to 
Belle  Mare  and  to  you,  and  be  good  to  you  in  the 
hard  winters  when  the  salmon  and  the  bear's 
meat  run  low.  The  saints  guard  you !  Fare- 
well !  ' '  and  waving  them  off  he  turned  in  squat 
majesty  back  to  the  house. 

As  one  in  a  dream  I  saw  the  savages  rise  and 
file  away  like  shadows.  But  that  was  irrelevant. 
My  head  was  humming,  my  heart  thumping,  at 
that  last  wildly  sweet  picture.  I  turned  to  Reine, 
but  she  was  no  longer  at  my  side.  She  stood  at 
the  door,  a  suggestion  of  ice  in  the  calm  of  her 
fine  profile. 

"  Mademoiselle  Lys,"  I  began  in  a  low  voice, 
"  do  not  crush  me  for  my  presumption,  but  I 
swear  to  you  before  God  that  if  this  strange 
fellow  prove  not  a  true  prophet  then  life  is  of 
no  more  worth  to  me!  " 

She  did  not  turn  her  head,  but  she  answered 
coldly . 

"His  presumption  trespasses  beyond  all  par- 
don, monsieur.  He  shall  be  punished!  But  I 
beg  you  to  think  no  more  of  his  folly!  " 


154  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  I  shall  never  cease  to  think  of  it,  mademoi- 
selle— Reine!  "  I  murmured. 

"  Then  I  forbid  you  to  speak  of  it,  monsieur!  " 
she  retorted,  severely. 

The  dwarf,  meanwhile,  had  come  in,  thrown 
himself  down  upon  the  floor,  and  was  looking  up 
at  us  with  fidelity  in  his  yellow  eyes  and  a  dog- 
like grin  on  his  astounding  mouth.  Reine  paid 
no  heed  to  him.  She  was  angry,  and  her  small 
brown  fingers  were  knotted  hard  in  the  yellow 
shawl. 

"  If  you  are  angry  at  me,  mademoiselle,"  I 
said,  "  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  make 
my  farewells  at  once,  and  go !  " 

She  turned  quickly,  and  the  anger  died  out  of 
her  face,  to  leave  only  a  mirthful  spark  behind  it. 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  go  and  betray  Bebe's  wicked 
lying  to  the  savages,  and  get  us  all  killed!  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  Oh,  no,  you  are  not  to  blame, 
poor  gentleman !  You  could  not  in  courtesy  say 
less  than  you  have  said,  to  save  my  blushes.  Be- 
lieve me,  I  remember  it  not,  save  as  showing  you 
can  be  most  courteous  to  a  maid  when  her  servant 
has  shamed  her.  But  I  desire  you  to  prove  him 
a  true  prophet  in  this,  monsieur — that  you  will 


The  Blue  Dwarf  of  Belle  Mare      155 

rest  here  with  us  at  Belle  Mare  till  the  moon  of 
the  morning  hoarfrosts." 

I  bowed  gravely. 

**  I  will  accept  your  gracious  hospitality,  Ma- 
demoiselle Lys,"  said  I,  "  for  as  long  as  my 
duties  will  permit — and  long  enough,  I  trust,  to 
persuade  you  to  let  me  carry  farther  the  question 
of  Bebe's  gift  in  prophecy!  " 

Her  chin  went  up  in  the  air. 

"  You  will  make  me  repent  of  my  courtesy  to 
you,  monsieur!  "  she  said. 

"  Pardon  me,  pardon  me,  mademoiselle!  I  will 
set  guard  upon  my  lips!  "  I  murmured. 

But  the  dwarf,  seeing  that  his  adored  mistress 
had  turned  her  back  upon  us  both,  rolled  upon 
me  a  yellow  glance  of  droll  encouragement. 

Lad,"  said  I,  holding  out  my  hand  to  him, 
"  right  well  have  you  repaid  to  me  that  little  debt 
not  yet  an  hour  old.  I  thank  you  for  my  life — 
and  hope !  "  I  added  under  my  breath. 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door 

"  'TT* HOUGH  you  are  only  an  Englishman," 
X  said  Claire,  contemplatively  teasing  the 
black-and-white  cat  with  the  toe  of  her  little 
beaded  moccasin, — "  though  you  are  only  an 
Englishman,  and  such  a  stupid  one,  I  do  think 
you  are  worth  more  than  five  livres  Tournois ; 
which  is  just  what  the  Black  Abba's  Micmacs 
will  get  for  your  scalp  at  Quebec  if  you  do  not  go 
away  at  once." 

The  black-and-white  cat,  much  gratified,  got 
up  and  curled  himself,  purring  ecstatically,  about 
her  slim  ankles.  And  I,  thinking  not  at  all  of 
the  Black  Abb6  and  his  red  rabble,  but  wholly 
intent  upon  the  whiteness  of  her  drooped  eye- 
lids, the  wonder  of  her  brow  and  cheek  and  chin, 
the  bronzy  dark  luxuriance  of  her  hair,  the  grace 
of  her  light  form  in  its  frock  of  creamy  woollen, 
and  the  exceeding  daintiness  of  the  yellow  beaded 
moccasins,  could  but  stammer  a  lame  protest 
against  this  dismissal. 

156 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         157 

"  But,  mademoiselle,"  I  pleaded,  "  I  have  only 
just  arrived,  and  there  is  so  much, — so  many 
things  I  want  to  say, — and  Heaven  has  so  far  be- 
yond my  fondest  expectation  favoured  me  by 
this  opportunity,  and " 

"  But,  monsieur,"  she  interrupted,  with  the 
faintest  delicate  mockery  of  my  pleading  inflec- 
tion, "it  is  your  absence  just  now  that  I  espe- 
cially covet." 

"You  are  expecting  some  one!"  I  cried,  a 
certain  heat  in  my  voice. 

"  Yes,  monsieur,"  she  answered,  her  eyes  still 
intent  upon  the  ecstatic  cat ;  "  I  am  momentarily 
expecting  a  visitor." 

"More  welcome  than  I,  plainly,  mademoiselle," 
said  I,  my  heart  sinking.  "  But  I  have  come  far, 
in  the  hope  of  a  word  with  you ;  and  I  cannot 
quietly  yield  up  this  dear  occasion  to  another 
man.  Who  is  it  that  thrusts  me  from  you  ?  "  I 
demanded  with  quick  wrath.  There  was  the 
faintest  suggestion  of  a  smile  at  the  corners  of 
her  lips. 

"  I  don't  remember  to  have  given  you  any  right 
to  ask  such  questions!  "  she  said  thoughtfully 
rather  than  unkindly. 


158  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

**  Of  course  not,  mademoiselle,"  I  protested, 
aghast  at  my  own  presumption.  "  But, — surely 
you  were  more  gracious  to  me  when  I  was  here 
last  autumn.  You  did  not  send  me  away  so 
abruptly." 

The  broad  white  eyelids  remained  cast  down ; 
the  sweet  mouth  grew  grave ;  neglecting  the  cat 
for  a  moment,  she  said : 

"  Indeed,  I  am  not  now  ungracious  to  you, 
monsieur.  The  visitor  I  am  expecting  is  Father 
La  Game,  the  Black  Abb6  himself.  And  he 
comes  to  see,  not  me,  I  assure  you,  but  an  Eng- 
lish officer  whom  he  expects  to  capture  here  this 
morning.  He  does  not  guess  that  I  am  warned 
and  look  for  his  coming." 

"  Then,"  I  cried  joyously,  "  there  is  a  little 
time  for  me  before  he  comes.  I  promise  you  I 
will  make  my  adieus  in " 

But  at  this  she  grew  suddenly  excited.  She 
sprang  up  (greatly  offending  the  cat),  laid  both 
appealing  little  hands  upon  my  scarlet  coat-sleeve, 
and  lifted  at  last  to  my  face  her  wonderful  eyes. 
Such  eyes, — for  a  year  now  I  had  been  carrying 
their  deep  light  in  my  heart  of  hearts!  They 
were  of  the  darkest  brown, — not  hazel,  and  not 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         159 

velvety,  but  with  lurking  lights  of  amber-green 
and  ethereally  crystalline,  like  the  water  of  a  deep 
woodland  pool.  Now  they  seemed  to  blacken 
with  unmistakable  fear. 

"  Oh,"  she  implored,  "go!  Go  at  once,  if 
you  have  any  care  for  me !  Go,  for  my  sake !  ' ' 
And  she  pushed  me  toward  the  door.  "  Go 
through  the  house !  I  have  let  you  stay  too  long ! 
I  feel  them  coming !  Go  out  through  the  sheds, 
and  down  through  the  spruce  woods, — quick, 
quick!  " 

But  as  I  yielded  to  her  terror, — a  terror  which 
thrilled  me  with  joy,  being  a  terror  for  me, — she 
checked  herself,  her  face  whitened  to  the  lips, 
her  hands  dropped  to  her  sides. 

"It  is  too  late!  "  she  said  faintly,  her  glance 
going  past  my  shoulder  and  out  across  the  fields. 
"  There  they  go,  five  of  them,  into  the  spruce 
woods! " 

I  followed  her  glance  with,  I  confess,  some  un- 
easiness, and  a  vast  remorse  for  having  brought 
this  trouble  upon  her  by  my  obstinacy.  She 
turned  and  looked  through  the  screen  of  hop 
vines  which  shaded  the  spacious  porch. 

"  And  here  comes  the  Black  Abb6,"  she  whis- 


i6o  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

pered,  her  hand  going  up  to  her  breast  as  she 
leaned  hopelessly  against  the  pillar. 

I  laid  my  hand  on  my  sword,  much  perplexed 
at  the  snarl  I  had  got  myself  into.  But  in  a 
moment  Claire  recovered  her  wits. 

"  Right  here!  Right  behind  this  door!  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  And  I  will  tie  it  back  with  this  old 
string  as  if  it  had  been  tied  back  for  ages!  It  's 
the  only  place  they  won't  look!  " 

The  outer  door  of  the  hall  opened  back  against 
one  wing  of  the  house,  leaving  a  space  scant 
enough  into  which  I  slipped.  A  moment  more 
and  her  nimble  fingers  had  the  door  tied  care- 
lessly to  the  wall,  leaving  an  inch-wide  crack 
through  which  I  could  peer  forth  upon  the  shaded 
porch  and  the  sunlit  world  of  Acadia  beyond.  I 
saw  Claire  reseat  herself  with  the  composure  of 
coolest  indolence  in  her  Indian  wicker-chair  and 
conciliate  the  black-and-white  cat  back  to  her 
lap. 

I  saw  the  Black  Abb6,  a  tall,  sinister  form  in 
his  shabby  soutane,  striding  up  the  yellow-brown 
road  between  the  basking,  buttercup-golden 
meadows.  He  came  slowly,  with  a  secure  de- 
liberation which  seemed  to  say:  "  He  is  in  the 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         i6i 

trap!  He  cannot  wriggle  out  at  any  corner! 
There  is  no  need  to  hurry!  " 

This  look  of  confidence  on  the  grim  priest's 
face  was  the  thing  that  first  brought  home  to  me 
the  gravity  of  my  peril.  For  the  first  time  I  felt 
that  here,  on  this  fair  morning  of  the  green 
Acadian  summer,  under  the  roof  and  before  the 
very  eyes  of  the  woman  I  loved,  I  was  in  truth 
only  too  likely  to  lose  my  life  ingloriously  to  a 
priest  and  a  pack  of  savages. 

Shame,  more  than  fear,  I  think,  burned  within 
me  as  I  stood  moveless  in  my  precarious  hiding- 
place.  I  had  a  fierce  impulse  to  step  out,  with 
bare  sword,  and  end  the  thing  swiftly,  with  at 
least  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  ere  I  fell  that  I 
had  rid  the  Acadian  land  of  its  greatest  curse. 
To  kill  the  Black  Abb6  would  be  a  public  service 
indeed.  Yet, — I  could  not  stain  my  sword  on  an 
unarmed  priest.  Further,  I  feared  to  involve 
Claire.  I  felt  that  she  had  taken  the  threads  of 
fate  into  her  own  white  fingers,  and  that  it  was 
no  business  of  mine  to  snarl  the  pattern  she  had 
set  herself  to  weave. 

All  this  I  thought  rapidly.  At  the  same  time 
the  shining,  tender-coloured  world  which  I  saw 


1 62  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

so  vividly  through  the  crack  between  door  and 
wall  cut  itself  deep  into  my  memory,  as  things 
seen  in  a  crisis  are  wont  to  do. 

Beyond  the  hop  vines,  down  the  southerly 
sloping  meadows,  past  the  roadside  fence  with  its 
scattered  thorn  bushes,  I  saw  the  red  and  brim- 
ming current  of  the  St.  Croix,  now  at  full  tide, 
moving  placidly  to  meet  the  parent  waters  of  the 
rosy-breasted  Piziquid.  How  warmly  red  they 
were,  those  tidal  streams  of  Acadia,  their  lines  so 
sharply  drawn  against  the  high  green  of  the  fields! 

Past  the  tide,  low  hills,  ever  more  and  more 
green ;  then,  behind  these,  the  higher  slopes  of 
Piziquid  village,  with  some  clustering  roofs,  some 
poplars,  and  the  spire  of  the  village  church. 
Over  these,  the  sky,  purely  blue,  lonely,  yet 
familiar.  It  was  ridiculous  to  think  that  this 
throat  of  mine  was  in  deadly  jeopardy ;  that  my 
life  now  hung  upon  the  wit  and  resource  of  a  girl. 

"  She  can  do  it,  if  ever  there  was  a  woman 
who  could,"  said  I  to  myself  as  I  watched  the 
beautiful,  firm,  composed  face,  lighting  now  with 
a  smile  of  courteous  welcome  as  La  Game's  heavy 
step  creaked  autocratically  on  the  platform. 

"  Good-morning,  Father  La  Game!  "  she  said 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         163 

civilly,  rising  to  greet  him.  "  My  father  has  gone 
over  to  Piziquid,  but  I  look  for  his  return  within 
the  hour.     Pray  be  seated." 

"  I  have  not  come  to  see  your  good  father,  my 
child,"  replied  a  peculiarly  rasping  voice,  not  un- 
kindly, but  with  a  too  scant  ceremony,  which 
made  me  itch  to  teach  him  manners.  The  next 
moment  the  owner  of  the  harsh  voice  came  clearly 
into  my  line  of  view  as  he  stepped  over  beside  the 
chair  wherein  Claire  had  been  sitting.  He  peered 
out  between  the  hop  vines. 

With  interest  and  repulsion  I  noted  the  strong, 
fanatic,  bitter  lines  of  his  face,  the  long  and  deep 
jaw,  the  piercing  light  eyes,  pinched  narrowly 
into  the  root  of  the  nose,  the  high-peaked,  narrow 
skull,  whose  tonsure  seemed  to  me  (he  had  re- 
moved his  hat)  the  mark  of  its  struggle  to  climb 
clear  of  the  prickly  irritation  of  its  stiff  hair. 

"  There  would  be  time  for  him  to  seek  a  secure 
hiding-place,"  said  he,  thoughtfully,  "  Tell  me, 
my  daughter,  has  he  retired  to  the  cellar  or  to  the 
attic  ?" 

The  deepening  insolence  of  his  tone  maddened 
me. 

"  What  do  you  mean.   Father  La  Game  ? " 


164  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

asked  Claire,  very  coldly,  seating  herself  on  a 
bench  that  stood  where  it  would  best  obstruct 
any  chance  disturbance  of  my  hiding-place. 

The  Black  Abb6  turned  and  gave  her  a  long, 
penetrating  look,  full  of  irony. 

"  I  chance  to  know,  my  child,"  said  he,  with 
dangerous  smoothness,  his  voice  softening  to  a 
marvel,  "  that  Captain  Marsh  is  in  this  house.  I 
want  him." 

"  You  have  been  misinformed,"  answered 
Claire,  curtly  positive. 

"  My  own  eyes  informed  me  of  his  coming,  my 
daughter,"  continued  the  priest  in  tones  now  soft 
as  silk.  "  And  I  have  taken  sufficient  precaution 
that  he  should  not  go  away." 

"  As  I  have  already  said,  you  are  mistaken. 
Father  La  Game, ' '  repeated  mademoiselle,  rising, 
and  with  a  plain  intimation  in  her  attitude  that 
her  visitor  might  consider  himself  dismissed. 

The  visitor  ignored  both  her  attitude  and  her 
denial.  He  turned  upon  her,  towering  in  dark 
authority.  "  Tell  me  where  he  is  hiding!"  he 
commanded,  no  longer  smooth  of  speech  or  accent. 

But  upon  Mademoiselle  de  la  Mare  his  air  of 
command  was  wasted. 


' '  The  Black  Abbe  turned  and  gave  her  a  long,  penetrating  look, 
full  of  irony." — {Pagi  164.) 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         165 

"  You  forget,  monsieur,"  she  retorted  scorn- 
fully, "  that  you  are  not  talking  to  one  of  your 
flock  or  to  a  girl  of  the  villages ! '  * 

The  priest's  eyes  contracted  angrily.  Hitherto 
he  had  seemed  to  take  a  dramatic  interest  in  the 
matter,  varying  his  tones,  acting  and  speaking 
for  the  effect,  and  pleasing  himself  with  the  game. 
Now  he  was  himself. 

"  I  have  no  time  to  waste  in  parley  with  a  chit 
of  a  girl!"  he  snapped.  "  My  men  will  find 
him!  "  And,  at  a  guttural  word  which  I  knew 
not,  there  came  to  my  ear  the  light  padding  of 
moccasined  feet  upon  the  porch.  Claire  sprang 
into  the  doorway. 

"  I  forbid  you  or  your  followers  to  enter  my 
father's  house  in  his  absence!"  she  exclaimed 
with  firmness,  but  with  a  certain  tremor  in  her 
voice  as  if  she  had  a  fear  which  she  could  not 
quite  control. 

"  Stand  aside,  girl!  "  he  ordered  curtly. 

"  You  shall  answer  to  my  father  for  this, 
monsieur!"  she  cried.  I  noted  and  began  to 
understand  the  cunning  assumption  of  terror 
behind  the  brave  words.  "  Excellent!  Oh, 
wise  and  ready  wit !  "  I  murmured  to  myself. 


1 66  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  Oh,  you  can  safely  leave  Monsieur  de  la  Mare 
to  me!  "  retorted  the  Abb6,  with  an  unpleasant 
laugh. 

"  I  have  told  you,  monsieur,  that  there  is  no 
one  there !  There  is  no  one  there  !  ' '  she  repeated, 
and  her  voice  was  now  pleading  almost  to  tears. 

"  Girls,  have  lied  before  this  to  shield  their 
lovers!  "  was  the  brutal  answer.  "  Come,  stand 
aside,  lest  you  be  made  to!  " 

"  How  dare  you!"  she  gasped,  and  slipped 
again  into  the  chair  where  I  could  see  her.  Her 
face  was  averted  from  my  hiding-place,  but  I 
could  see  one  little  ear  and  the  sweet  rondure  of 
her  neck.  They  were  crimson  with  shame.  I 
had  much  ado  to  hold  myself  in  check  at  this 
sign  of  distress. 

In  went  the  padding  feet,  and  for  an  instant 
longer  I  heard  them  on  the  wide  hall  floor.  But 
the  priest  failed  to  do  as  she  had  expected.  He 
remained  beside  her  on  the  porch. 

**  I  will  wait  here  and  explain  to  your  father 
when  he  comes." 

*'  If  you  set  those  animals  to  desecrate  our 
house,"  cried  Claire,  her  teeth  shutting  viciously 
between  every  other  word,  "  you  would  at  least. 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         167 

if  you  had  ever  been  a  gentleman,  go  with  them 
and  see  what  they  do !  " 

I  saw  her  nervously  jerking  her  handkerchief  to 
and  fro  between  her  slim  fingers.  She  was  baffled 
and  trembling. 

"Don't  be  alarmed  for  your  gewgaws!" 
sneered  La  Game,  still  too  angry  to  amuse  him- 
self by  affecting  good-humour.  "  It  is  only  your 
lover  they  are  after." 

At  this  gratuitous  insolence  she  did  not  seem 
even  angry,  at  which  I  was  profoundly  astonished. 

I  had  been  on  the  point  of  stepping  forth  to 
whip  the  cur  with  my  scabbard,  but  perceiving 
that  she  was  no  more  moved  than  to  smile  coolly 
upon  him,  tapping  her  little  moccasins  on  the 
hop-vine  trellis,  I  thought  better  of  it.  If  she  did 
not  feel  herself  insulted  it  were  mere  presumption 
on  my  part  to  interfere.  Was  /  to  teach  her  she 
had  received  an  insult  ?  I  quenched  my  wrath 
in  wonder,  wherein  there  lurked  a  sweet  delight. 

It  was  not  till  long  afterward — so  dull  was  I 
— that  I  understood  the  matter.  She  had  feared 
that  I  might  break  out,  avenge  the  rudeness,  and 
ruin  all.  Therefore  she  had  put  the  curb  on  her 
galled  pride  and  seemed  to  take  no  offence. 


1 68  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  You  reassure  me  most  marvellously,  mon- 
sieur! "  she  murmured,  and  turned  upon  him  a 
glance  of  mirth  so  genuine  and  so  inexplicable 
that  he  glared  at  her  with  unaffected  wonder  from 
beneath  his  shapeless  narrow  brows.  He  did  not 
like  to  be  puzzled.  This  girl,  with  her  unac- 
countable variations  of  temper,  puzzled  him. 

I  saw  him  redden  a  bricky  colour  in  the  wrinkles 
of  his  rough-hewn  jaw.  But  he  spoke  not  a  word. 
He  simply  eyed  her,  seeking  to  disconcert  her; 
and  she, — she  grew  but  the  more  gayly  at  ease 
under  the  glance  which,  as  I  had  heard,  was  wont 
to  make  all  Acadia  tremble. 

Presently  he  shifted  this  unprofitable  exercise 
of  his  eyes  and  grew  intent  upon  the  doorway 
whence  he  expected  his  savages  to  drag  me  with 
no  more  delay.  I  saw  Claire  give  a  quick  glance 
out  through  the  hop  leaves  and  turn  her  face  at 
once  back  toward  her  antagonist.  What  she  had 
seen  plainly  gave  her  satisfaction.  I  looked 
also. 

Up  from  the  red  St.  Croix,  striding  hastily 
through  the  buttercup  meadows,  came  the  tall 
form  of  Denys  de  la  Mare.  He  came  with  an 
anxious  air  upon  his  face,  as  of  one  who  sees 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         169 

something  amiss.  Perhaps  he  had  marked  the 
savages  lurking  about. 

Just  now  came  the  running  of  furtive  feet  from 
within,  and  La  Game  broke  out  with  angry  inter- 
rogatories in  Micmac,  from  which  I  gathered,  not 
without  reason,  that  the  savages  had  failed  to  find 
me.  There  were  low  replies,  strange  mixture  of 
the  harsh  and  musical,  as  that  language  is,  and 
the  priest  turned  sharply  to  mademoiselle. 

"  There  is  one  chamber  locked,"  said  he. 
' '  Give  me  the  key ! ' ' 

'  *  Pardon  me,  Father  La  Game, ' '  she  answered 
very  sweetly,  but  with  a  sort  of  exultation  in  her 
voice,  "  but  you  surely  cannot  ask  a  young  girl 
to  throw  open  her  private  chamber  to  this  rabble. 
That  is  my  own  room.  I  took  occasion  to  lock 
it  some  hours  ago  for  reasons  quite  personal." 

Having,  as  he  imagined,  his  quarry  now  marked 
down  where  there  could  be  no  mistake.  La  Game 
recovered  his  composure  and  lost  some  haste. 

"  I  doubt  not,  my  daughter,  that  your  reason 
is  quite  personal," — he  spoke  in  an  indulgent 
tone, — ■"  and  looks  well  in  a  red  coat.  But,  in- 
deed, it  was  not  some  hours  ago  that  you  locked 
him  in«  since  it  was  not  one  hour  back  that  he 


170  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

passed  up  this  way  from  the  village.  It  was 
little  courteous  of  him  to  seek  such  a  place  for 
hiding  and  subject  a  maiden's  refuge  to  such 
disclosure.  But  the  King's  service  respects  not 
ladies'  chambers.  Give  me  the  key,  child,  or  I 
must  force  the  door!     The  game  is  up!  " 

The  words  were  scarce  out  of  his  mouth  when, 
with  a  little  cry,  Claire  sprang  forward  and 
clutched  her  father's  arms. 

"  Father!  "  she  panted,  "  this  base  priest  in- 
sults me!  He  says  I  have  a  man  locked  up  in 
my  room ! "  And  she  sobbed  a  little.  The  strain 
had  been  long  and  terrible,  and  now  she  shifted 
it  to  her  father's  shoulders. 

There  was  silence  for  a  second,  and  very  greatly 
I  desired  to  see  the  face  of  Denys  de  la  Mare, 
which  was  not  within  the  scant  range  of  my  view. 
His  voice  when  he  spoke  was  stern  enough. 

I  beg  you  to  explain  yourself,  Father  La 
Game!  "  was  all  he  said.  But  I  gathered  that, 
however  intimate  had  been  these  two,  they  were 
like  to  be  divided  now. 

"  It  is  soon  told,  my  friend!  "  responded  the 
Black  Abb^,  coolly.  "  Less  than  an  hour  back 
there  came  to  this  house,  presumably  to  see  your 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         171 

daughter  in  your  absence,  an  English  officer  from 
Halifax,  one  Captain  Marsh."  (The  priest,  being 
a  fanatic,  with  no  great  knowledge  of  human 
nature  and  no  understanding  of  the  comradeship 
betwixt  this  father  and  daughter,  thought  to  set 
the   one   against   the  other  by  his  suggestion.) 

My  followers  saw  him  enter  the  house.  It  has 
been  closely  surrounded  ever  since.  There  is  no 
escape.  He  is  within,  as  surely  as  if  I  now  saw 
him  there  with  these  eyes, — which  have  seen  the 
undoing  of  many  another  English  dog.  The  out- 
buildings have  been  searched,  the  house  has  been 
searched,  attic  to  cellar.  In  vain !  One  room  has 
not  been  searched, — your  daughter's  chamber. 
The  door  is  locked.  She  refuses  me  the  key.  I 
call  upon  you,  Denys  de  la  Mare,  in  the  name  of 
France  and  of  the  Church,  bid  the  girl  give  up 
the  key,  —  deliver  up  the  shaking  wretch  she 
hides!" 

'  *  I  have  given  him  my  word  of  honour,  father, ' ' 
interrupted  Claire,  "  that  there  is  no  man  in  the 
house.  I  give  it  now  to  you.  Will  you  shame 
me  before  this  low  fellow,  who  disgraces  his  gown 
and  tonsure  ?  " 

"  Surely  your  word  is  enough  for  me,  ch6rie," 


172  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

answered  De  la  Mare.  "  If  you  say  it,  there  is 
no  man  there.  That  's  all.  But  as  for  you. 
Father  La  Game,  you  have  presumed  grossly  in 
sending  your  red  scum  through  my  house  with- 
out my  authority.  It  served  nothing  but  your 
own  vainglorious  pride.  The  King's  service 
could  safely  have  awaited  my  return  from  the 
village,  if,  as  you  say,  you  had  your  prey  fairiy 
trapped." 

"  Pish!  "  said  the  priest.  "  What  I  want  of 
you  now,  Denys  de  la  Mare,  is  that  door  opened. 
We  can  argue  the  point  of  ceremony  afterward." 

There  was  a  weighty  pause.  I  felt  for  the 
high-spirited  Frenchman,  forced  to  hold  himself 
in  check  lest  he  bring  peril  on  his  child.  In  a 
second  or  two  he  answered,  but  not  to  the  priest. 

"  Dear  heart!  "  said  he,  tenderiy,  "  this  fellow 
must  have  his  way.  You  can  not  rest  under 
his  insinuation.  His  lie  must  be  thrust  back  into 
his  throat.  Go  then  with  him  alone,  open  the 
door,  open  every  box  and  cupboard,  shake  out 
for  him  your  cloaks  and  kirtles.  After  all,  he  is 
a  priest, — of  a  kind.  But  if  one  of  his  redskins 
goes  with  you  I  '11  run  that  one  through  with  my 
sword! " 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         1 73 

La  Game  laughed,  but  seemed  satisfied.  To 
get  his  way  was  enough  for  him. 

"  Go  on,  mistress.  I  follow  you!"  said  he. 
And  I  saw  that  at  least  he  lacked  not  courage. 

For  some  minutes  there  was  silence  save  for 
De  la  Mare's  impatient  drumming  on  the  porch 
post  and  a  faint  scuffling  of  moccasins  in  the  hall, 
where,  as  I  inferred,  the  savages  awaited  a  signal 
from  their  leader.  Then  the  redskins  came  out, 
descended  the  steps,  and  gathered  in  a  stolid, 
painted  group  over  against  a  bed  of  blossoming 
phlox,  where  I  could  well  see  them  and  learn 
to  pray  for  deliverance  from  so  murderous  a 
crew. 

Close  after  them,  and  heeding  them  just  so 
much  as  if  they  had  been  a  puff  of  dust  blown 
before  her,  came  Claire,  seating  herself  once  more 
in  her  wicker-chair  by  the  vines.  And  the  black- 
and-white  cat  followed  her,  arching  his  back  and 
stepping  delicately. 

The  picture  gave  me  a  strange  sense  of  secur- 
ity, there — while  my  life  clung  on  the  thinnest 
edge  of  hazard,  the  veil  between  this  world  and 
the  next  reduced  to  the  thickness  of  a  painted 
door. 


1 74  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

La  Game  came  lingeringly,  and  I  cursed  him 
with  unreasonable  vexation  because  he  came  not 
where  I  could  see  his  disappointed  face. 

"It  is  unbelievable!  "  he  muttered.  "  The 
room  is  empty.  Were  it  in  France,  now,  I  'd 
swear  there  was  a  secret  cupboard  wherein  she  'd 
bestowed  him.  But  what  need  of  such  contriv- 
ances in  Acadia  ?  It  looks  as  if  he  had  escaped 
us,  and  by  your  face  you  're  glad  of  it,  Denys  de 
la  Mare!  "  He  flashed  out  in  sudden  fury,  "  I  '11 
search  yet  once  more !  " 

I  heard  De  la  Mare  spring  into  his  doorway. 

"By  God!"  he  cried,  "you  cross  not  this 
threshold  again !  You  've  had  your  way.  Your 
insolence  has  gone  unpunished.  .  Now  go  you  !  " 

"I  go  when  I  please, — and  come  when  I 
please!"  retorted  the  priest,  and  in  the  colossal 
egotism  of  his  tones  there  was  yet  a  something 
which  said  he  was  not  going  to  force  a  final 
quarrel,  at  least  on  the  moment.  "  I  will  not 
search  again, — not  because  you  forbid  me,  but 
because  I  see  it  is  idle.  But  I  tell  you,  Denys  de 
la  Mare,  did  I  still  think  this  chit  here  had  the 
dog  concealed  within,  I  'd  burn  your  house  about 
your  ears  rather  than  he  should  escape!     You, 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         175 

and  such  as  you,  need  a  lesson,  if  Acadia  would 
be  kept  true  to  King  and  Church," 

De  la  Mare  took  a  stride  forward,  and  on  the 
edge  of  the  steps  the  Black  Abb6  turned  and 
faced  him. 

"It  is  you  who  need  a  lesson,"  cried  the 
Acadian  gentleman,  his  voice  trembling.  "  My 
hand  itches  sorely  to  lay  this  scabbard  about 
your  ears!  " 

"  Yonder  are  ten  reasons  why  you  should  not," 
retorted  the  priest,  with  a  scorching  calm.  "And 
there  are  a  score  more  reasons  like  it  in  the 
woods  yonder." 

My  heart  was  hot  within  me  for  this  high- 
spirited  Frenchman,  compelled  to  curb  his  right- 
eous indignation.  Had  it  not  been  for  Claire,  I 
truly  believe  he  would  have  kicked  the  tonsured 
bully  down  the  steps  and  taken  any  consequences 
with  good-will.  But  he  mightily  held  himself  in 
hand. 

"It  is  a  proper  way  to  serve  your  cause, 
surely,"  he  said  with  accusing  bitterness  and  a 
certain  sorrow  in  his  voice,  "  to  drive  into  the 
arms  of  England  the  few  honest  gentlemen  of 
Acadia  whose  hearts  yet  hold  true  to  King  Louis. 


1 76  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

To  the  English,  forsooth,  we  are  compelled  to 
turn  for  protection  from  a  mad  priest  and  a  pack 
of  redskins  who  pretend  to  serve  France.  You, 
Frangois  La  Game,  well  called  the  Black  Abb6, 
are  the  curse  of  this  land !  " 

"  Fool!"  retorted  La  Game,  with  easy  con- 
tempt, *'  you  to  prate  to  me  of  taking  refuge 
with  the  English.  What  have  I  to  do  but  send 
the  Governor  a  hint,  through  my  tools  in  Halifax, 
of  the  part  you  played  so  zealously  three  years 
ago  at " 

But  at  this  moment  I  foresaw  complications. 
My  mind  for  once  worked  on  the  instant. 

"  Hold!"  I  shouted,  snapping  the  string  and 
swinging  the  door  with  a  mighty  slam  as  I  strode 
forth.     "  I  '11  hear  no  secrets!  " 

My  sword  was  naked  in  my  right  hand.  I  had 
had  it  ready  this  long  time,  you  may  be  sure. 
With  my  left  I  drew  a  pistol  from  my  belt,  and 
knowing  that  now  the  fat  was  all  in  the  fire,  I  dis- 
charged it  point-blank  at  La  Game. 

That  miscreant  leaped,  however,  at  the  lifting 
of  my  arm,  else  had  he  sorely  defrauded  an 
honest  gallows;  and  my  shot  fetched  down  a 
vermilion-faced  savage  who  was  happily  in  range. 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         177 

As  my  black-frocked  enemy  jumped,  De  la 
Mare  was  at  my  side  on  the  instant,  his  sword 
drawn. 

"  Within!  get  within!  "  he  shouted  to  Claire; 
but  she,  picking  up  my  empty  pistol,  coolly  pro- 
ceeded to  reload  it. 

The  savages  were  brave  enough,  but  somewhat 
taken  aback  by  my  appearance  and  the  death  of 
their  fellow.  Ever  sparing  of  their  own  skins, 
and  seeing  us  two  well  armed  and  desperate,  they 
nimbly  withdrew  out  of  pistol  -  shot  to  take 
counsel. 

"  They  give  us  time,  monsieur,"  muttered  De 
la  Mare,  his  long,  dark  face  working  with  the 
fever  of  the  fight.  "  The  guns!  The  guns, 
Claire!     They  're  both  loaded!  " 

But  as  she  sprang  to  obey  I  stayed  her  with 
my  left  hand.  I  had  looked  down  toward  the 
red  St.  Croix.     I  had  seen  something. 

"No  need!"  said  I,  striving  to  keep  the 
exultation  from  my  voice.  "  Look!  "  and  I 
strode  out  upon  the  steps  where  my  scarlet  coat 
shone  in  the  sun,  and  waved  my  sword  above  my 
head  and  shouted  at  the  top  of  my  lungs : 

' '  England !    This  way !    This  way !    Double  I ' ' 


1 78  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

Up  from  the  waterside  came  a  squad  of  Eng- 
lish infantry  on  the  run. 

La  Game  saw,  and,  gathering  up  his  sou- 
tane, ran  too,  with  more  speed  than  priestly 
decorum. 

He  knew  there  was  a  rope  at  Halifax  itching 
hotly  for  his  neck.  His  followers  seemed  to 
drop  into  the  grass,  so  instantly  they  vanished, 
stooping  and  gliding  like  snakes. 

I  turned  to  my  astonished  hosts.  Claire  had 
reseated  herself  in  the  wicker-chair, — but  the 
black-and-white  cat,  offended  by  the  clap  of  my 
pistol,  had  gone.  De  la  Mare  stood  beside  me, 
leaning  on  his  naked  sword,  interrogation  in  his 
grave  eyes, — and  a  vague  apprehension  which  I 
speedily  set  at  rest. 

I  held  out  my  hand  to  him. 

"  Thank  you  with  all  my  heart,  monsieur,"  said 
I,  with  fervour,  "  for  your  most  loyal  back- 
ing! " 

"  I  was  committed !  But  I  have  more  to  thank 
you  for.  Captain  Marsh!  " 

I  waved  this  aside. 

"  This  is  my  command  coming,"  said  I.  "It 
was  nigh  coming  too  late.     One  of  my  reasons 


By  the  Thickness  of  a  Door         1 79 

for  calling  this  morning,  monsieur,  was  to 
ask  your  advice  as  to  where  they  had  best  be 
quartered  in  Piziquid.  Under  the  circum- 
stances  " 

"  Under  the  circumstances,  I  beg  that  they  be 
quartered  here  and  on  my  tenants,"  he  inter- 
rupted eagerly,  "  unless  there  be  any  other  in  the 
country  who  needs  your  protection  more.  And 
what  was  your  other  reason,  monsieur  ?  " 

I  hesitated.  Should  I  ?  Could  I  dare  at  that 
lucky  moment  ?  I  looked  at  Claire.  Her  great 
eyes  met  mine  with  an  instant's  flaming  glance  of 
imperious  prohibition.     I  dared  not. 

"  Not — not  just  now!  "  I  stammered,  suddenly 
disheartened.  "  By  and  by,  when  we  have  better 
occasion,  I  will  beg  you  to  listen  to  me.  * ' 

"  At  your  pleasure,  monsieur,"  he  answered, 
with  a  courtesy  which  I  could  not  but  note  had 
warmth  in  it. 

I  ventured  to  look  again  at  Claire,  but  could 
not  catch  her  eye.  She  had  thrust  forward  one 
little  foot  and  was  very  intently  studying  the 
beadwork  on  her  moccasin.  I  took  courage  at 
seeing  a  flush  slowly  steal  over  her  wonderful 
face. 


i8o  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

Then  I  turned,  my  heart  swelling  with  sudden 
triumph,  and  my  squad  halted  before  the  steps. 
Very  pleasantly  their  bayonets  rattled  as  they 
came  to  attention. 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  the 
Black  Abbe 

THE  time  was  night,  on  the  23d  of  Decem- 
ber, 1754.  The  place  was  a  spruce  forest 
in  old  Acadie,  or — as  its  new  masters,  the  Eng- 
lish, had  rechristened  it — Nova  Scotia. 

The  encampment  was  in  the  deep  snow  of  the 
Acadian  winter.  Nowhere  else  did  the  straight 
trunks  of  the  ancient  spruce  and  fir  trees  shoot 
up  so  gigantically  as  here.  In  the  fitful  red 
illumination  of  the  camp-fire  they  cast  goblin 
shadows  upon  the  band  of  Micmacs,  painted 
savages  squatting  on  their  haunches  about  the 
blaze.  Standing  very  erect,  near  the  fire,  was 
the  spare  figure  of  La  Game,  "  The  Black  Abb6," 
bane  of  the  English,  terror  of  the  Acadians, 
shame  of  the  Church,  but  idol  of  his  savage  flock, 
the  Micmacs  of  the  Shubenacadie. 

The  ruddy  light,  falling  upon  his  face  as  he 
181 


1 82  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

gazed  into  the  fire,  intensified  the  harsh  and 
bitter  lines  of  the  wide,  thin  mouth  and  indomit- 
able jaw;  made  more  grotesque  than  fate  had 
planned  it  the  long,  bulb-tipped  nose ;  deepened 
with  abrupt  shadows  the  frown  of  his  high,  nar- 
row forehead ;  and  lit  a  cruel  red  spark  in  the 
gleam  of  his  close-set  eyes.  Over  his  coarse, 
furred  leggings  and  stout  coat  of  Acadian  home- 
spun, he  wore  the  black  soutane  of  that  priestly 
office  which  he  dishonoured. 

A  few  steps  back  of  the  half-circle  of  squatting 
and  grunting  savages  stood  Jean  Viardeau,  lean- 
ing against  a  tree,  both  mittened  hands  clasped 
over  the  muzzle  of  his  musket.  A  short  but 
athletic  figure,  very  broad  in  the  shoulders,  with 
stiff  black  curls  crowding  irrepressibly  from  under 
the  edge  of  his  blue  woollen  toque,  he  would 
have  been  handsome  but  for  the  settled  cloud  of 
anger  on  his  face.  He  was  a  man  with  a  grudge. 
Vengeance  upon  the  English  was  his  one 
thought;  and  when  vengeance  delayed,  resent- 
ment deepened.  There  had  been,  he  thought, 
too  much  delay  in  this  camp  among  the  fir 
woods. 

There  was  no  wind.     The  flame  and  smoke 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  183 

went  straight  up,  toward  that  far,  black  hole  in 
the  forest  roof  through  which  two  great  stars 
sparkled  icily.  A  few  feet  from  the  main  fire 
was  a  heap  of  glowing  coals,  raked  forth  for  con- 
venience in  the  cooking;  and  from  the  unctuous 
splutter  of  the  broiling  bear's  meat  came  a  savour 
of  richness  somewhat  rank. 

Suddenly  the  dark  form  by  the  fire  turned,  and 
strode  over  to  the  young  Acadian 's  side.  Viar- 
deau looked  up,  and  a  flash  of  expectancy  light- 
ened the  gloom  of  his  square-jawed  face. 

"  Work  for  me  to  do  ?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"  Work  for  you!  "  answered  the  priest,  shut- 
ting his  thin  lips,  and  pausing  to  eye  the  young 
man  with  an  atomising  scrutiny  before  unfolding 
his  purpose. 

"  I  know,  my  son,"  he  went  on  in  a  moment  or 
two,  "  both  your  love  for  France  and  your  right- 
eous hatred  of  the  English.  We — I,  and  you,  and 
a  few — alas,  too  few ! — faithful  and  resolute  like 
ourselves — are  the  instruments  of  vengeance  on 
the  enemies  of  our  country.  You,  unlike  myself, 
have  a  personal  grudge  against  them,  I  believe!  " 

The  young  man's  eyes  flashed,  and  he  opened 
his  mouth  to  speak ;  but  La  Game  continued : 


184  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  I  think  they  robbed  you  of  your  little  patri- 
mony. I  think,  too,  your  father  fell  by  an  Eng- 
lish sword,  by  the  banks  of  the  Tantramar.  But 
that  was  years  ago,  when  you  were  too  young  to 
remember!  " 

"  I  remember  it  as  if  it  had  been  yesterday! 
I  remember  my  mother's  tears!"  exclaimed 
Viardeau,  fiercely. 

"  It  was  long  ago,"  went  on  the  Black  Abb6, 
"  and  it  was  in  fair  fight!  But  of  late,  I  think, 
the  English  have  been  kind  to  you.  Is  it  not 
so  ?  This  cannot  but  ease  your  bitterness  against 
them  in  some  measure!  " 

But  none  knew  better  than  La  Game  the  fresh- 
ness of  Jean  Viardeau's  injuries,  his  new  rage 
born  as  it  were  yesterday. 

"Curse  them!"  he  muttered  between  his 
clenched  teeth.  "  They  have  robbed  me  of  my 
last  hope,  the  stay  of  my  mother's  age.  My 
hand  is  against  their  name  and  race,  while  I  have 
strength  to  lift  it  up !  " 

"  Why,  my  son,  what  is  this  new  injury  ?  As 
if  you  had  not  suffered  enough  from  the  usurpers' 
violence !  "  said  La  Game,  softly,  with  a  sympa- 
thetic wonder  in  his  voice. 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  185 

"  Did  you  not  hear  of  it,  Father?  "  exclaimed 
Viardeau,  husky  with  the  vehemence  of  his  hate. 
* '  They  seized  my  schooner,  the  Belle  Marie,  with 
all  her  cargo  of  barley,  flax,  and  fish,  bound  for 
Louisbourg;  confiscated  them ;  sold  them  in  Hali- 
fax. And  there  was  a  fortune  for  me  in  that 
cargo,  had  I  got  it  safe  to  Louisbourg.  We  es- 
caped with  but  the  stuff  on  our  backs, — Louis, 
Tamin,  and  I!  " 

"  Then  where  are  Louis  and  Tamin  .? "  asked 
the  Black  Abb6. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Jean,  with  angry  scorn,  "  back  at 
Grand  Pr6, — smoking,  smoking,  talking,  talking, 
and  watching  the  pot  on  the  fire.  They  are 
tame.  They  are  not  men.  But  I — I  will  strike 
back!" 

"  You  shall  strike  at  once,  and  strike  hard,  my 
son !  "  said  the  Black  Abb6. 

"  How?— When  ?" 

"  To-night,  when  you  have  eaten,"  continued 
La  Game,  "  you  shall  take  one  of  my  faithful 
followers  here,  and  meat  enough  in, your  pack  for 
three  days'  journey,  and  set  out  for  the  Nappan. 
You  know  the  little  marsh  where  the  Des  Rochers 
brook  flows  in.     On  the   upland  bordering  the 


1 86  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

marsh  on  the  south  an  English  settler  has  built 
his  cabin.  He  has  cleared  fields.  He  has  dyked 
in  part  of  the  marsh.  He  is  prospering.  Soon 
other  English  will  come  and  do  likewise,  setting 
a  greedy  grasp  upon  the  lands  of  our  people. 
They  must  be  discouraged.  Terror  must  seize 
the  souls  of  any  that  would  follow  them.  You 
must  get  there  to-morrow  night,  Jean.  Not  one 
of  them  must  see  the  next  daybreak.  The  cabin 
must  be  smoke  and  ashes  under  the  next  sun. 
The  lesson  must  be  one  to  be  read  far  off.  If 
these  robbers  will  not  spare  our  lands  for  justice, 
they  shall  for  fear. ' ' 

"  Will  we  two  be  enough  for  the  fight.  Father  ?" 
asked  Viardeau. 

"  There  will  be  no  fight,  my  son,"  answered 
La  Game,  coolly.  "  There  is  but  one  English- 
man ;  and  he  will  be  asleep.  It  is  simple.  And 
I  have  work  elsewhere  for  the  rest  of  these!  " 

"I  should  like  a  fair  fight!"  muttered  the 
young  man,  doubtfully.  "  I  would  see  his  eyes. 
I  would  strike  him  down,  and  he  should  know 
my  vengeance.  I  like  not  stabbing  in  the 
dark!" 

"  So, — it  is  not  only  Tamin  and  Louis,"  said 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  187 

La  Game,  with  a  slow  sneer,  "  who  can  '  talk, 
talk,*  and  *  sit  by  the  fire,*  and  fear  to  strike.  It 
is  enough,  Jean  Viardeau ;  you  Acadians  are  not 
men.  I  have  my  savages.  I  will  send  Sacobi 
and  Big  Paul.     They  are  men!    They " 

"You  speak  in  haste.  Father  La  Game!** 
broke  in  Viardeau  hotly.  "  I  will  not  be  talked 
to  so.  And  I  will  go.  I  meant  to  go  from  the 
first,  if  you  had  no  fighting  for  me  to  do.  I 
could  do  you  better  service  in  fighting;  and 
your  redskins  could  perhaps  do  better  at  stab- 
bing in  the  dark.  But  I  go.  Give  me  Sacobi. 
He  *s  got  more  brains  than  the  rest,  and  talks 
French." 

Taking  no  notice  whatever  of  the  young  man*s 
anger,  the  Black  Abb^  coolly  summoned  Sacobi 
from  his  place  beside  the  broiling  bear's  meat, 
and  proceeded  to  give  orders  for  the  conduct  of 
the  enterprise.  Half  an  hour  later  Viardeau  and 
his  redskin  companion,  slipping  their  moccasined 
toes  under  the  moose-hide  thongs  of  their  snow- 
shoes,  turned  their  backs  on  the  camp-fire  and 
the  smells  of  the  broiled  bear's  meat,  and  struck 
off  into  the  moon-mottled  shadows  and  clean 
balsamy  savours  of  the  forest. 


i88  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

Sacobi  was  a  lean,  active  savage,  a  head  taller 
than  the  Acadian,  but  of  slimmer  build.  Shrewd, 
quick-witted,  less  reticently  monosyllabic  than  his 
fellows,  and  at  ease  in  the  French  tongue,  Viar- 
deau  regarded  him  as  the  one  Indian  fit  to  hold 
speech  with.  There  was  little  speech  between 
them,  however,  on  that  night  march.  There  was 
occupation  enough  for  thought  and  sense  in  pick- 
ing their  path  through  the  misleading  shadows. 
When  they  had  marched  perhaps  three  hours,  and 
the  moon  had  sunk  so  low  as  to  be  no  longer  of 
use  to  them,  they  halted,  dug  a  roomy  hole  in 
the  snow  with  their  snow-shoes,  built  a  fire  in  the 
centre  of  the  cleared  space,  and  bivouacked  for 
the  night. 

Viardeau  was  restless,  and  little  in  love  with  his 
undertaking.  Hence  it  came  that  he  slept  ill. 
He  was  not  one  to  set  his  hand  to  the  plough  and 
look  back,  however  ugly  might  seem  to  him  the 
furrow  he  was  doomed  to  turn.  But  he  wanted 
the  business  done  quickly.  Before  dawn  he  had 
aroused  his  indifferent  comrade,  and  with  the 
first  flood  of  rose-pink  staining  the  eastern  faces 
of  the  fir  trees,  the  two  were  again  under  way. 
The  snow  was  firmly  packed,  the  snow-shoeing 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  189 

easy;  and  Viardeau 's  bitter  impatience  brought 
them  out  too  soon  upon  the  edge  of  the  marsh 
by  the  Nappan  water. 

It  was  a  little  after  sunset,  and  the  winter 
night  was  beginning  to  close  in.  The  channel  of 
the  Nappan,  at  half-tide  and  choked  with  muddy 
ice-cakes,  groaned  in  shadow.  But  the  open 
clearing  beside  them,  with  its  blackened  stumps 
up  thrust  through  mounds  and  curling  drifts  of 
snow,  caught  the  last  of  the  daylight.  Across 
this  dying  pallor  came  a  cheery  yellow  radiance 
from  the  windows  of  the  settler's  cabin,  set  close 
for  shelter  under  the  forest-edge  at  the  north 
side  of  the  clearing.  Flanked  by  its  wide-eaved 
log-barn  and  lean-to  shed,  it  made  a  homely 
picture  in  the  wilderness;  and  Viardeau 's  scowl 
deepened. 

"  Three — four  hours,  may  be,"  said  the  Indian, 
"  before  they  sleep  yonder!  " 

"  Why  not  tackle  him  now,  and  give  him  a 
chance  in  fair  fight  ?  "  growled  the  Acadian,  fin- 
gering his  musket  impatiently. 

"  No  fair  fight  now!  "  retorted  Sacobi.  "  Him 
inside.  See  us  plain.  We  no  see  him !  All  on 
one  side!  '* 


I  go  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

Viardeau  could  not  but  acknowledge  the  force 
of  this;  and  he  knew  the  nice  markmanship  of 
the  English  settlers. 

"  Bien,  Sacobi,"  he  assented  reluctantly.  "  I 
guess  that  's  so.  And  there  are  only  the  two  of 
us,  so  we  can't  throw  ourselves  away.  But  I 
tell  you  there  's  got  to  be  a  fair  fight.  When 
we  get  the  blaze  going  we  *11  wake  him  up  and 
let  him  come  out  to  take  his  chance.  No  knifing 
in  the  dark  for  me!  " 

The  Indian  looked  faintly  surprised  at  this 
sentiment ;  but  being  a  brave  man,  assented  will- 
ingly enough.  As  long  as  the  command  of  the 
Black  Abb6  was  carried  out,  he  was  content  that 
Viardeau,  whom  he  admired,  should  be  suited  in 
the  manner  of  it. 

Cautiously  Viardeau  led  the  way  around  the 
skirts  of  the  clearing,  and  into  the  dense  growth 
of  mixed  young  and  old  timber  which  almost 
touched  the  roofs  upon  the  north.  From  this 
post  of  vantage  they  could  survey  the  situation 
and  lay  their  deadly  plans.  They  commanded  a 
view  of  the  front  of  the  cabin,  and  of  a  beaten 
trail  running  down  the  gentle  slope  from  the  door- 
way to  a  narrow  opening  in  the  opposite  woods. 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  191 

A  very  bright  light  shone  down  the  trail  from  the 
cabin  windows. 

"  That  must  be  the  trail  to  Des  Rochers  vil- 
lage," whispered  Viardeau. 

The  savage  grunted  assent ;  and  then  muttered : 

* '  Why  make  so  great  light  ? ' ' 

"  It  is  the  eve  of  Noel,  you  know!  "  answered 
the  Acadian  with  some  surprise.  "  Christmas 
Eve  the  English  call  it ;  and  it  is  a  great  festival 
with  them,  even  more  than  with  us!  " 

"See  candles,  many  candles,  in  window!" 
went  on  the  savage,  still  puzzled. 

"Ah,  somebody  is  expected!"  replied  Viar- 
deau, at  once  growing  more  interested.  "  Some- 
body more  to  fight.  A  good  fight,  maybe,  after 
all!     Eh,  my  Sacobi  ?  " 

"  Good  fight,  no  fight, — all  same  to  me,  so 
long  as  job  done  and  Black  Father  satisfied," 
said  the  Indian  with  a  large  indifference. 

Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  a  woman  stood 
in  the  doorway,  peering  anxiously  down  the  trail. 
Framed  with  light  as  she  was,  and  her  face 
therefore  enshadowed,  her  features  could  in  no 
way  be  distinguished.  But  the  form  was  that  of 
a  slender  girl. 


192  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

At  this  sight  Viardeau  growled  an  impatient 
curse.     His  companion  understood  it. 

"  No  prisoners!  "  he  grunted.  "  No  time  for 
prisoners !     That 's  less  trouble !  " 

And  he  made  a  significant  gesture  at  his  scalp- 
lock. 

Viardeau  started. 

"  No!  "  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  icy  conclusive- 
ness, "  none  of  that,  my  friend !  There  will  be  a 
prisoner.  I  will  have  no  murder  of  women  or 
children!  " 

The  savage  looked  at  him  askance.  There 
were  unknown  quantities  in  this  Acadian  which 
his  less  complex  brain  had  not  yet  estimated. 
But  he  was  an  astute  savage,  and  saw  nothing  to 
be  profited  by  argument.  It  was  clear,  however, 
to  him  that  Viardeau  was  angry  at  finding  there 
was  a  woman  to  be  reckoned  with.  Presently 
he  saw  Viardeau  smile.  How  could  his  wrath 
vanish  so  rapidly  ?  Sacobi  could  not  grasp  the 
quick  workings  of  his  companion's  mind.  It  had 
occurred  to  Viardeau  that  to  save  the  woman's 
life  would  in  some  degree  compensate  for  the 
treachery  of  the  business  to  which  La  Game  and 
his  own  vindictiveness  had  committed  him. 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  193 

While  he  was  revolving  this  thought,  and  de- 
riving much  satisfaction  therefrom,  he  was  fairly 
startled  by  a  sound  from  across  the  clearing.  A 
piercing  and  piteous  scream,  a  child's  scream  of 
mortal  terror  and  despair,  thrilled  through  the 
evening  quietude.  Jean  Viardeau  instinctively 
sprang  forward,  clutching  his  musket. 

At  the  foot  of  the  slope,  where  the  Des  Rochers 
trail  emerged  from  the  woods,  came  into  view  the 
small  figure  of  a  child,  running  for  life. 

In  a  second  it  came  into  the  line  of  light.  It 
was  a  little  boy.  His  sturdy  legs  were  all  too 
short  for  the  speed  required  of  them.  In  one 
mittened  fist  he  frantically  clutched  the  handle  of 
a  small  wooden  bucket.  His  light  curls  streamed 
out  behind  his  shoulders,  from  under  his  woollen 
cap.  And  now  Viardeau  saw  his  little  round 
face,  the  eyes  wide  with  awful  fear  and  hopeless 
appeal,  fixed  upon  the  lighted  windows  of  home. 

At  the  sight  of  that  childish  agony,  Jean  Viar- 
deau's  heart  came  uncomfortably  into  his  throat. 
He  had  never  been  at  ease  when  he  saw  a  child 
suffer. 

"  What  can  have  scared  the  tot  ? "  he  mused 
to  himself. 


194  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

But  even  as  he  asked  it,  he  was  answered. 

Out  from  the  darkness  of  the  trail  came  a  wolf, 
galloping  low,  muzzle  down,  tongue  lolling  from 
the  fangs.  And  after  him  two  more,  close  upon 
the  leader's  gaunt  flanks. 

Viardeau  dared  not  fire.  The  child  was  in  a 
line  between  his  musket  and  the  wolves.  But  he 
did  not  pause  to  weigh  the  consistency  of  his 
.action.  His  throat  aching  with  pity,  he  dashed 
down  the  slope,  shouting  to  the  child  that  he 
would  save  him. 

Upon  the  hope  of  help  the  little  fellow's 
strength  all  at  once  gave  way.  His  knees  failed 
him,  and  he  fell  headlong,  face  in  the  snow ;  and 
Viardeau  groaned. 

But  at  that  great  shout  the  wolves  had  paused, 
wavered  an  instant.  It  was  but  an  instant,  and 
they  sprang  again  to  the  attack,  seeing  a  single 
foe  before  them.  But  that  instant  was  enough. 
Viardeau  was  already  between  them  and  their 
quarry. 

Before  they  could  leap  upon  him  he  fired,  and 
one  sank  kicking  on  the  snow.  The  fangs  of  the 
next  were  fairly  at  his  throat,  ere  his  long  knife, 
driven    upward    with   a    tremendous    short-arm 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  195 

stroke,  went  through  the  mad  beast's  gullet  and 
reached  the  brain.  But  the  heavy  onrush  at  the 
same  moment  all  but  overbalanced  him ;  and  in 
the  wrench  to  keep  his  feet  he  swung  violently 
aside,  still  clinging  to  the  knife-hilt  where  it  stuck 
fast  in  his  adversary's  neck. 

That  swing  probably  saved  Viardeau ;  for  the 
leap  of  the  third  wolf  fell  short.  Its  jaws  clashed 
like  a  trap,  but  merely  ploughed  a  furrow  in  the 
flesh  of  his  shoulder,  and  gained  no  damaging 
grip.  In  the  same  second  the  brute  caught  sight 
of  the  long  form  of  Sacobi,  loping  down  to  the 
rescue;  and  wheeling  with  a  fierce  snarl,  it  fled 
for  the  woods.  Before  it  had  gone  ten  paces  the 
Indian's  musket  crashed,  and  the  lean  grey  body, 
stretching  on  the  gallop,  suddenly  doubled  up 
into  a  shuddering  heap  of  fur. 

"  Well  done,  my  brother!  "  panted  Viardeau, 
shaking  himself  like  a  dog  just  from  the  water. 
Then  he  ran  to  pick  up  the  boy,  who  still  lay 
face  downward,  shaking  and  sobbing. 

"  There,  there!  Don't  be  scared,  sonny, 
they  're  all  killed!"  he  said  gently  in  English, 
lifting  the  poor  little  figure.  But  at  the  sound  of 
the  kind  voice  the  sobs  broke  into  violent  crying. 


196  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

The  child  clung  convulsively  to  his  neck,  and 
hid  his  face  in  the  comforting  homespun 
bosom. 

"  There,  there,  I  '11  take  you  home,"  he  went 
on  soothingly,  all  forgetful  of  his  grim  errand. 

**  Oh,  thank  God  you  were  in  time!  God 
bless  you!  God  will  bless  you, — sir!"  ex- 
claimed a  choking  voice  at  his  elbow. 

He  turned,  somewhat  embarrassed  by  the  cling- 
ing arms,  and  saw  the  young  girl  who  had  stood 
in  the  doorway.  She  was  trembling  so  that  she 
could  scarcely  stand  up ;  and  her  face  was  ashen 
white.  The  light  from  the  door,  which  stood 
wide  open,  shone  full  upon  her;  and  for  all  her 
pallor  Viardeau's  first  thought  was  that  never 
before  had  he  seen  such  a  face.  Smooth,  heavy 
masses  of  fair  hair,  ruddy  in  the  candlelight,  were 
drawn  low  to  either  side  of  a  very  broad,  low 
forehead,  and  half  covered  the  small  ears.  The 
eyes,  astonishingly  large,  and  now  wide  with 
agitation,  were  set  far  apart,  and  seemed  to 
Viardeau  like  pools  of  liquid  darkness.  The 
short  upper  lip  and  short,  upturned  chin  made 
Viardeau  think,  even  in  that  moment,  of  an  old 
Venetian  coin  which  he  had  taken  in  the  way  of 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  197 

trade  one  day  at  Louisburg,  and  for  its  beauty 
had  kept  by  him  ever  since. 

Jean  Viardeau  was  more  disturbed  than  he  had 
been  by  the  wolves. 

"It  was  nothing,  miss  —  they  were  only 
wolves  !  "  he  stammered.  "  Shall  I  carry  the 
little  fellow  up  to  the  house  for  you  ?  "  And  he 
started  up  the  lighted  slope  with  his  burden. 

At  the  same  time,  however,  he  kept  a  sidelong 
gaze  upon  the  girl  who  walked  at  his  side. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried  again,  in  a  poignant  voice, 
pressing  her  hands  to  her  eyes  as  if  she  would 
shut  out  a  vision  of  horror.  "  If  you  had  not 
come!     If  you  had  not  come  in  time!  " 

Then  she  reached  out  her  arms  to  the  child. 
"  Come  to  me,  Boysie!  Come  to  me!  "  she  en- 
treated. 

But  the  boy  clung  the  tighter  to  Viardeau 's 
neck.  And  the  young  Acadian  glowed  with  an 
absurd  warmth  of  satisfaction  at  the  preference. 

"  How  did  I  let  him  go  so  far  alone,  and  so 
late  ? "  she  went  on,  reproaching  herself,  with  no 
tears,  but  hard,  choking  sobs.  "And  the  wolves. 
Father  always  said  there  were  no  wolves  in  Nova 
Scotia!" 


198  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

"  The  hard  winter,  the  deep  snow  so  early, 
that  's  driven  them  in,  from  over  the  neck, 
miss!  "  spoke  Viardeau. 

By  this  they  were  come  to  the  house.  Silently 
the  Indian  stalked  in  after  them,  seated  himself 
by  the  great  open  fire,  and  gazed  into  it  with  un- 
winking eyes.  The  child  had  by  this  time  re- 
covered himself  somewhat,  and  stood  upon  his 
feet,  releasing  Viardeau  from  the  solid  burden  of 
a  sturdy  lad  of  eight.  But  he  kept  close  to  his 
protector's  side,  and  shivered  if  the  latter  moved 
a  foot's  length  away  from  him.  Playing  with  a 
rude  wooden  doll,  near  the  hearth,  sat  a  little 
flax-haired  girl  of  five  or  six.  Looking  up,  she 
smiled  indulgently  upon  the  visitors.  Then  her 
look  changed  to  one  of  deep  concern.  Jumping 
to  her  feet,  she  ran  over  to  Viardeau  and  seized 
his  hand. 

"  Poor  man !  Poor  man !  "  she  cried  earnestly. 
"  Oh,  what  bit  you  ?     Oh,  the  blood!  " 

Bewildered  by  his  emotions,  and  by  the  events 
which  had  brought  him  as  a  trusted  protector 
into  the  household  which  he  was  sent  to  destroy, 
Jean  Viardeau  had  not  noticed  his  wound ;  but 
now  he  awoke  to  the  burning  throb  of  it.     In- 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  199 

stantly  the  tall  girl  was  at  his  side,  her  eyes 
brimming  with  tears  of  self-reproach. 

"  All  I  have  thought  of  has  been  Boysie  and 
myself!"  she  cried.  "  Forgive  me.  Sit  here, 
sir.  I  must  dress  it  for  you !  Oh,  but  your  poor 
shoulder  is  so  badly  torn !     Please  sit  down !  '  * 

But  Viardeau  was  now  awake.  He  saw  for  the 
first  time  in  all  its  hideousness  the  work  which 
had  been  set  him.  He  shook  at  the  thought 
of  it. 

"  No,  miss,"  he  answered,  growing  white  about 
the  lips.  "It  is  nothing.  We  have  far  to  go. 
We  must  go  at  once !  "  And  firmly  he  unclasped 
the  child's  fingers  from  the  flap  of  his  woollen 
capote. 

The  girl's  level  brows  went  up  in  wonder  and 
displeasure. 

"  You  can  not  go,  sir,  till  I  dress  your  wound !  " 
And  gently,  but  with  a  certain  positive  authority, 
she  pushed  him  toward  a  settle.  "  You  can  not 
go  till  we  have  supper.  You  can  not  go  till  my 
father  comes,  to  thank  you  for  saving  the  life  of 
his  only  son.  When  father  comes,  he  will  keep 
you,  to  help  us  celebrate  this  happy  Christmas, 
which   but  for  you —  "  and   with   a  passionate 


200  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

gesture  she  covered  her  eyes  again,  nor  trusted 
herself  to  say  what  would  have  been  but  for 
him. 

Viardeau  felt  that  the  wound — a  tearing  gash 
— should  be  dressed.  And  her  fingers  were  very 
soft  and  cool  to  the  angry  flesh.  He  looked  at 
Sacobi;  but  the  savage  sat  like  a  statue,  gazing 
into  the  fire.  The  young  man  yielded.  He 
would  go  right  afterward. 

At  this  moment  the  steps  of  a  heavy  runner 
came  up  to  the  door.  The  door  was  dashed 
open.  A  big,  ruddy  man,  Hght-haired,  grey- 
eyed,  frank  of  countenance,  carrying  a  heavy 
pack,  burst  in.  The  pack  fell  by  the  door  with  a 
thud,  and  he  sprang  across  the  room  to  crush 
the  boy  to  his  heart.  His  father — instinct  had 
told  him  the  situation  at  once.  Then  he  held 
out  his  hand  to  Viardeau. 

"  God  reward  you,  stranger!  "  he  exclaimed  in 
a  deep  voice  that  thrilled  with  fervour.  "  I  see 
a  bit  of  what  's  happened.  I  heerd  the  shots. 
I  seen  the  carcasses  out  there.  And  I  reckon 
you  've  saved  for  me  what  's  more  'n  my  life! 
Now,  tell  me  all  about  it,  Marjy,  my  girl!  " — and 
he  stopped,  panting,  and  hugely  out  of  breath. 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  201 

"  It  was  nothing!  It  was  all  in  the  way  of  a 
day's  hunt!  "  interposed  Viardeau  hastily. 

But  the  girl  Marjory,  breaking  in  indignantly, 
told  the  story  as  it  was ;  and  the  boy,  forsaking 
his  father,  emphasised  it  by  running  to  cling 
again  to  Viardeau *s  side. 

The  big  man's  eyes  were  wet.  He  came  and 
wrung  Viardeau 's  hand  once  more. 

"  I" — he  stopped  with  a  gulp, — "  I  see  jest 
how  it  was!"  he  cried.  "You  can't  thank  a 
man  that  's  done  what  you  've  done  for  me  this 
night,  stranger.  But — but — if  ever  you  want  a 
friend,  why,  I  'm  John  Brant, — and  I  'd  give  my 
right  hand  for  you, — I  *d — Marjy,  my  girl,  make 
haste  now  and  get  supper.  We  're  all  hungry,  I 
reckon!  Eh,  sissy  ?  "  And  to  hide  his  emotion 
he  snatched  up  the  little  girl  with  her  wooden 
doll,  and  began  careering  boisterously  up  and 
down  the  room. 

After  a  minute  or  two  of  this  he  quieted  down. 

"  I  say,  stranger,  it  was  God  Himself  that  sent 
you,  I  allow,"  said  he.  "  But  where  in  thunder 
did  you  come  from,  so  in  the  nickest  of  time  ? " 

Jean  Viardeau  could  stand  it  no  longer.  This 
gratitude,  trust,  devotion,  were  crushing  him  to 


202  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

the  ground.  He  arose,  and  putting  out  his  left 
hand  in  earnestness,  he  grasped  the  child's  arm 
and  held  it  tight,  unconsciously,  while  he 
spoke. 

"  John  Brant,"  said  he,  "  stop  this  gratitude. 
I  will  not  eat  of  your  bread.  I  will  leave  this 
roof  as  soon  as  I  have  spoken.  I  do  not  deserve 
that  you  should  bear  to  look  upon  me.  Where 
did  I  come  from  ?  Not  from  God.  From  the 
devil !  I  came  to  murder.  I  was  sent  to  destroy 
this  house,  and  all  in  it!  " 

"  Well !  I  '11  be —  "  gasped  the  big  man,  sitting 
down  and  staring,  while  anger,  astonishment, 
and  a  sort  of  sick  horror  chased  each  other  over 
his  broad  face. 

Now  Sacobi,  as  it  chanced,  understood  English, 
though  he  could  not  speak  it.  At  the  first  of 
Viardeau's  passionate  speech  he  had  turned,  his 
eyes  ablaze  with  scorn.  As  the  young  man  went 
on,  the  Indian  slipped  noiselessly  toward  the 
door.  No  one  heeded  him.  Over  the  big  Eng- 
lishman's shoulder  Viardeau  saw  him  open  the 
door  and  vanish  into  the  night.  He  had  no  wish 
to  hinder  that  flight.  He  went  on  with  his  self- 
denunciation. 


How  Viardeau  Obeyed  203 

"  Before  morning,  this  house  would  have  been 
ashes,  you  a  dead  man,  your  children  captives — 
had  I  done  what  I  was  sent  to  do!  "  concluded 
Viardeau,  dropping  his  head,  not  daring  to  meet 
the  look  which  he  felt  must  be  in  Marjory  Brant's 
eyes.  There  was  a  silence  when  he  stopped — a 
silence  that  seemed  to  overtop  and  bear  him 
down.  Then  he  saw  that  the  girl  had  come  to 
his  side — was  standing  close  by  him. 

"  You  did  n't  know!  "  she  said  softly.  "  You 
came  to  bring  us  death;  but  you  brought  us 
life,  and  shed  your  own  blood  for  a  stranger 
child." 

"  Right  you  are,  Marjy,  my  girl!  "  exclaimed 
the  big  man,  springing  up  yet  once  more  to  wring 
the  hand  that  had  saved  his  son.  "  Cheer  up^ 
man!  Don't  look  so  down!  Your  heart  's  in 
the  right  place.  What  care  I  for  all  you  thought 
you  was  goin*  to  do  ?  You  're  the  man  in  all  the 
world  for  me,  that  *s  what.  You  've  given  me 
my  boy.  Come,  come,  supper,  my  girl !  Shall 
we  starve  on  Christmas  Eve  ?  Where  's  your 
Injin?" 

"  He  did  n't  see  it  just  as  I  did,"  answered 
Viardeau.     "  He  's  gone!  " 


204  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  Best  place  for  him!  "  said  John  Brant,  heart- 
ily. 

"  He  'd  have  been  dreadfully  in  the  way  for 
Christmas!  "  said  Marjory,  laughing  into  Viar- 
deau's  eyes. 


Grul's  Gift 
I 

IN  his  first  sleep  the  child  sobbed  with  the 
cold. 

The  young  mother  stooped  a  white  face  over 
him,  drew  him  closer  to  her  breast,  and  strove  to 
cover  him  more  warmly  with  the  one  scant  robe 
of  red  fox  skins  which  her  captors  had  spared  to 
her.  She  was  astonished  to  find  that  she  had 
slept  in  her  bonds. 

Her  arms  were  free,  indeed,  that  she  might  care 
for  the  child  and  save  her  captors  trouble.  She 
was  sitting  on  a  pile  of  spruce  boughs,  her  back 
against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  to  which  she  was 
securely  tied. 

The  fire,  in  the  centre  of  the  circle  of  snow,  had 

died  down  to  a  heap  of  glowing  embers,  the  light 

of  which,  falling    upon   her   face  as  she   raised 

it,  and  gazed  about  her   in   bewildered  despair, 

205 


2o6  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

showed  her  to  be  a  woman  of  EngHsh  blood  and 
obviously  gentle  breeding. 

The  hood  of  her  cloak  had  fallen  back,  reveal- 
ing a  great  abundance  of  ruddy  brown  hair,  in 
part  still  piled  in  a  coiffure  somewhat  elaborate 
for  the  wilderness,  the  rest  hanging  in  rich  dis- 
hevelment  over  her  shoulders. 

As  she  stared  about  her,  bewilderment  passed 
into  a  spasm  of  horror.  Her  gravely  sweet 
face  grew  pinched  as  the  sudden  disaster  of  yes- 
terday reenacted  itself  in  her  brain. 

She  saw  herself  and  her  boy,  well  muffled  in 
furs  and  blankets,  driving  in  their  roomy  box- 
sleigh  along  the  forest  trail.  Slowly  they  went, 
through  the  deep  snow,  but  merrily  enough,  for 
the  bells  jingled  loud  on  the  harness,  the  horses 
were  willing,  the  morrow  would  be  Christmas, 
and  each  hour  brought  them  the  nearer  to  a  joy- 
ous meeting.  She  saw  the  driver  slouching  on 
the  front  seat,  his  pointed  hood  of  grey  flannel 
over  his  head.  She  saw  the  orderly  sitting  erect 
beside  him,  the  collar  of  his  great  coat  turned  up 
to  meet  the  edge  of  his  bearskin  shako. 

She  saw  Boy  Jerry  lift  his  laughing  little  face 
from  the  furs  at  her  side  to  lisp : 


GrQl's  Gift  207 

"  Don't  you  think  we  '11  get  there  pretty  soon, 
mamma  ?  " 

Then  she  heard  again  the  heavy  crash  of 
muskets  on  both  sides  of  the  trail,  their  reports 
thinning  instantly  into  the  wolfish,  appalling  war- 
cry  of  the  Micmacs.  She  saw  the  smoke  spurt 
white  out  of  the  underbrush.  She  saw  the  big 
orderly  fling  up  his  musket  with  a  violent,  con- 
vulsive jerk,  discharge  it  blindly,  straight  in  the 
air,  and  topple  from  his  seat,  a  limp,  dreadful 
sprawl  of  legs  and  coat-skirts.  She  saw  the  driver 
lean  forward,  with  screams  and  strange  curses,  to 
lash  the  horses  into  a  gallop, — but  too  late. 

She  saw  the  painted  red  fiends  swarm  forth, 
surround  the  sleigh,  seize  the  horses,  cut  the 
traces,  drag  the  driver  from  his  place,  and  cut 
him  down  with  their  hatchets.  She  saw  herself 
clutch  Jerry  to  her  arms,  and  bury  her  face  as  she 
crouched  over  him  to  shut  out  from  the  eyes  of 
both  the  sickening  butchery. 

She  felt  again  that  icy  numbness  in  the  back  of 
her  head  and  neck,  expecting  the  crunch  of  the 
iron.  But  then,  as  she  was  pulled  violently  out 
upon  the  snow,  she  recovered  her  senses,  and 
stood  upright,  facing  the  butchers  with  steady 


2o8  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

eyes.  As  she  had  not  been  killed  at  once,  as 
Jerry  had  not  been  at  once  torn  from  her  arms, 
she  concluded  that  they  were  reserved  either  for 
torture  or  for  captivity,  and  with  a  strenuous 
effort  of  will  she  resolved  to  think  of  nothing 
that  might  weaken  her,  lest  she  might  miss  some 
chance  offer  of  that  hope  which  lasts  with  life. 
She  saw  the  savages  rifle  the  sleigh,  emptying  it 
of  all  her  possessions,  while  two  of  them  disap- 
peared  into  the  woods,  leading  the  horses. 

With  a  curious  spasm  of  pity  she  saw  herself 
and  Jerry  standing  there  in  the  snow  by  the  trail, 
waiting  for  their  captors  to  notice  them, — the 
most  miserable,  the  most  infinitely  alone,  the  most 
hopelessly  deserted,  it  seemed  to  her,  of  all  the 
world's  wretched.  She  remembered  herself  sooth- 
ing Jerry's  hushed  but  heart-breaking  sobs  with 
the  promise  that  "  Mamma  will  take  care  of  her 
boy!"  a  promise  which  in  her  heart  translated 
itself  into  a  wild  prayer  that  God  might  make  it 
good. 

And  then,  again,  she  shrank  with  a  physical 
horror  as  a  savage  suddenly  came  up  to  her,  gave 
her  some  guttural  command  which  she  could 
make  nothing  of,  and  struck  her  on  the  face  with 


GrCil's  Gift  209 

the  flat  of  his  reeking  hatchet  because  she  did  not 
obey.  At  once,  however,  another  Indian  had 
intervened  in  her  behalf. 

He  had  spoken  in  a  patois  French,  of  which 
she  could  gather  the  drift,  and  had  ordered  her  to 
put  on  a  pair  of  snowshoes  which  the  other  Indian 
was  holding.  A  New  Hampshire  woman  by- 
birth,  she  was  an  adept  with  the  woven  moose- 
hide  ;  and  she  had  therefore  been  apt  to  join  in 
the  march  at  once,  carrying  Jerry,  and  murmur- 
ing thanksgivings  in  her  heart  for  the  bodily 
strength  which  now, — for  the  present  at  least, — 
saved  her  from  she  knew  not  what  indignities. 
Her  captors  had  struck  off  from  the  trail,  and 
into  what  seemed  to  her  the  pathless  woods ;  and 
they  had  journeyed  not  only  past  sunset  but  on 
till  moonset.  When  bound  to  her  tree  beside 
the  camp-fire  she  had  resolved  not  to  sleep,  lest 
she  should  miss  some  chance  of  rescue;  but 
fatigue  and  anguish  had  forced  upon  her  their 
own  anodyne.  She  had  slept  in  her  bonds;  and 
now  she  was  so  stiff  she  feared  she  could  not  move. 

The  camp,  which  she  now  for  the  first  time 
took  note  of,  was  a  tiny  amphitheatre,  dug  by 
the   Indians  with   their  snowshoes.     The  walls 


2IO  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

were  of  snow,  and  about  four  feet  in  height, 
sufficing  to  keep  off  the  wind. 

Round  the  heap  of  embers  and  charring  sticks, 
in  the  centre  sprawled  the  sleeping  savages,  com- 
fortably bedded  on  spruce  boughs,  and  wraps 
from  the  looted  sleigh.  The  two  on  guard  sat 
bolt  upright,  close  to  the  fire,  motionless  as 
statues.  The  stony  profile  of  the  one  nearest  to 
her  froze  the  woman's  soul  with  a  deadly  terror, 
which  was  succeeded  by  a  wave  of  half-animal 
ferocity, — the  mother-fury.  It  set  her  chilled 
blood  racing  again.  Her  strong  white  fingers 
clenched,  and  she  muttered  to  herself, — half 
prayer,  half  pledge : 

"  Oh,  God!  as  long  as  they  leave  me  Jerry, 
I  '11  be  servile  to  these  beasts.  But  if  they  take 
him  from  me,  I  '11  kill  some  of  them!  I  '11  kill 
that  one  by  the  fire !  " 

Soon  she  noticed  a  change  in  the  colour  of  the 
night.  An  icy  pallor  stole  upon  it,  and  the  coals 
began  to  turn  grey.  Looking  up  through  the 
tree-tops  far  above  her  head,  she  saw  that  the 
stars  had  faded,  and  the  sky  was  whitening  with 
dawn.  Several  of  the  sleepers  stirred,  preparatory 
to  waking. 


Grdl's  Gift  211 

"  Christmas!  Christmas  morning!  "  she  whis- 
pered to  herself.  "  And  so  happy  a  Christmas 
we  had  looked  for,  Jerry  and  I!  "  The  pity  of 
it, — pity  for  the  little  one's  disappointment, — 
gripped  her  throat.  It  came  near  weakening  her 
and  breaking  her  down  to  tears;  but  she  set  her 
teeth,  and  thrust  the  thought  from  her  heart. 

And  now  a  strange  sound  came  echoing 
solemnly  through  the  woods.  It  was  a  great  and 
bell-like  voice  chanting  in  French : 

"  Woe,  woe  to  Acadie  the  Fair,  for  the  hour 
of  her  desolation  cometh!  " 

At  first  a  wild  hope  of  succour  leaped  in  her 
heart,  but  it  sank  again  instantly  as  she  noted  the 
attitude  of  the  Indians.  They  awoke  at  the  first 
notes  of  that  strange  voice;  but  they  did  not  ap- 
pear alarmed.  They  all  seated  themselves 
gravely  around  the  fire,  and  seemed  to  await 
something.  Jerry,  too,  awoke  and  sat  up.  He 
stared  questioningly  at  his  mother,  wondering 
awe  in  his  wide,  blue  eyes;  and  he  forgot  to 
complain  that  he  was  cold. 

That  deep-toned  proclamation  was  repeated 
thrice,  each  time  nearer  and  louder;  but  its  sound 
so  pervaded  the  forest  that  the  woman,  searching 


212  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

everywhere  with  her  eyes,  could  not  tell  the 
direction  whence  it  came.  It  was  followed  by  a 
minute  of  tense  silence,  and  then,  she  could  not 
tell  how,  a  grotesque  but  impressive  figure  stood 
by  the  fire. 

A  murmur  ran  round  the  circle.  She  caught 
just  the  one  word,  "  Grul!  "  "Grul!  "  repeated 
by  different  voices. 

He  was  tall,  and  a  high,  conical  cap  added  to 
his  stature.  In  the  cap  were  stuck  sprigs  of  hem- 
lock and  of  that  false  mistletoe  which  grows  in 
the  fir  trees.  From  under  it  streamed  long  wisps 
of  snowy  hair,  meeting  and  mingling  with  the 
long  streamers  of  his  snowy  beard.  About  his 
shoulders  swung  a  heavy  woollen  cloak,  woven 
of  black  and  yellow  in  a  staring  but  mystical 
pattern. 

In  his  left  hand — and  the  woman  noted  with 
wonder  the  aristocratic  fineness  of  the  long,  pallid 
fingers, — he  held  a  short  wand  of  white  wood, 
topped  with  a  grotesquely  carved  head  of  vivid 
scarlet.  His  right  hand  he  held  outstretched 
over  the  fading  embers,  into  which  he  gazed 
fixedly.  His  face  was  turned  half  toward  her, 
and  with  a  new  hope  fluttering  up  she  noted  the 


GrOl's  Gift  213 

noble  mould  of  the  features,  the  high  serenity  of 
his  forehead. 

Slowly  he  turned  his  face,  and  his  eyes  met 
hers.  They  pierced  like  points  of  pale,  glancing 
steel,  and  her  new  hope  chilled  to  extinction. 
Then  a  terrible  and  daunting  white  flame  seemed 
to  dance  within  them,  and  she  shuddered,  saying 
to  herself,  "  Mad!"  The  next  moment  she 
wondered  if  she  had  spoken  the  word  aloud,  for, 
as  if  in  retort,  he  came  over  to  her,  and  stood 
before  her,  thrusting  the  fantastic  wand  toward 
her. 

She  shrank  in  overmastering  fear,  and  averted 
her  eyes;  but  little  Jerry  in  her  lap  was  not  in  the 
least  afraid.  With  a  cry  of  delight  he  caught  the 
grinning  scarlet  head  of  the  wand,  laughed  con- 
fidingly up  to  that  terrifying  face,  and  asked : 

"  Are  n't  you  good  Mr.  Santa  Claus  ?  Have 
you  come  to  save  mamma  and  me  ?  " 

Slowly  GrOl  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  child, 
and  slowly  the  white  fire  faded  out  of  them. 
They  softened  first  into  a  sort  of  wonder,  and 
then  into  mild  compassion.  Without  a  word, 
but  very  gently,  he  removed  the  child's  grasp 
from  the  wand.     Then,  with  another  and  more 


214  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

human  look  at  the  mother's  face,  he  gathered  his 
bright  cloak  closer  about  him,  and  glided  off 
soundlessly  into  the  receding  vistas  of  the  forest. 
Dawn  was  now  fairly  abroad,  and  the  savages 
stirred  the  fire  to  cook  their  moose-steaks  before 
resuming  the  march. 

II 

The  sloping  glacis  of  Fort  Lawrence,  mantled 
with  snow,  gleamed  in  the  noon  sun.  From  the 
flagstaff  on  its  south-west  bastion  flapped  lazily 
the  red  ensign  of  England,  sentinelling  the  white 
levels  of  the  marshes  out  to  the  winding  line 
where  the  dark  gash  of  the  Missiguash  Channel 
divided  English  sway  from  the  domains  of  France. 

In  the  low,  wood-ceiled  dining-room  of  the 
officers'  quarters,  within  the  fort  quadrangle. 
Major  Ford,  with  Captain  John  Sansom  and  a 
half-dozen  trim  subalterns,  were  but  lately  seated 
at  their  Christmas  dinner.  Major  Ford,  being 
a  Warwickshire  Englishman,  the  dinner  was  an 
English  dinner,  with  a  juicy  roast  in  sight,  and  a 
round  plum  pudding  aflame  with  cognac,  in  neigh- 
bourly prospect. 

Captain  Sansom  was  a  New   Englander,   but 


Gral'sGift  215 

well  inclined  to  see  the  Christmas  feast  no  less 
honoured  at  the  board  than  his  native  festival  of 
Thanksgiving.  He  had  praised  the  deep-shelled 
Bale  Verte  oysters  as  fit  to  grace  a  banquet  of 
Lucullus.  The  Madeira  had  been  especially  com- 
mended, sipped  and  savoured,  and  sipped  again, 
by  all  who  valued  the  Major's  good  opinion — 
which  is  to  say,  by  all  the  company.  Nor  in  this 
did  anyone  compromise  his  conscience,  for,  in- 
deed, the  Major  had  a  nice  palate  for  Madeira. 
The  beef,  carved  with  ceremony,  had  been  pro- 
nounced a  credit  to  the  fat  meadows  of  Maccan. 

At  this  juncture  an  orderly  appeared,  saluted, 
and  stood  just  inside  the  door. 

The  Major  had  a  red,  smooth-shaven  face,  and 
little  irascible  eyes  which  served  to  mask  a  very 
amiable  sort  of  soul.  He  looked  up,  and  glared 
at  the  orderly. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  latter,  saluting 
again,  "  some  one  houtside  wants  to  see  you  hat 
once — without  any  delay,  sir." 

"  What  's  his  name  ?  What  does  he  want  ?  " 
demanded  the  Major,  sharply. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  answered  the  man,  "  'e 
won't  give  no  name  whatever;  an'  'is  business. 


2i6  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

'e  says  as  'ow  hit's  most  hinstant!  If  I  might 
make  so  bold,  sir,  I  think  as  'ow  *e  's  mad.  'E 
looks  queer;  an'  'is  'at  's  like  a  steeple;  an'  'e 
carries  a  little  stick  with  a  most  hextrayordinary 
'ead,  like  a  Punch-an'-Judy  show." 

The  Major  had  little  imagination  and  much  ap- 
petite. He  was  about  to  bid  the  stranger  wait 
till  after  dinner;  but  Captain  Sansom  tactfully 
intervened  before  the  decree  went  forth. 

"  I  have  heard  of  this  man,  Major  Ford,"  said 
he.  "  A  very  strange  being,  who  goes  by  the 
name  of  Grul.  Mad,  doubtless,  but  with  so  far 
a  method  in  his  madness  that  he  never  appears 
save  when  something  important  is  afoot.  He 
has  a  strange  power  in  Acadia,  He  is  the  mortal 
foe  of  La  Game.  And  he  does  nothing  to 
cheapen  himself.  I  beg  you  to  let  him  come 
in!" 

Exclamations  ran  around  the  table,  indorsing 
the  Captain's  request. 

It  will  be  so  entertaining,  don't  you  think. 
Major?"  lisped  young  Lieutenant  Wrenne, 
whose  proud  courage  won  tolerance  for  his  affect- 
ations. 

"  Well,  well,  well,"  grumbled  the  Major.     "  If 


Grill's  Gift  217 

you  like;  if  you  like  I  More  entertaining  with 
the  nuts  and  port,  I  should  say ;  but  at  once,  if 
you  like,  gentlemen.     Show  him  in,  Jenkins." 

The  orderly  disappeared  like  an  automaton, 
and  a  minute  later  the  tall,  fantastic  form  of 
Grul  moved  noiselessly  into  the  room. 

His  eyes  gleamed  coldly  upon  the  Major's 
face.  Then  they  rested  for  a  few  seconds  upon 
the  dark,  wide-awake  countenance  of  Captain 
Sansom,  and  then,  with  an  indescribable  power, 
they  swept  the  whole  circle. 

Grotesque  as  was  his  appearance,  no  one 
laughed.  No  one  knew  till  afterward,  in  looking 
back  upon  the  incident,  that  he  was  grotesque. 
Major  Ford  took  a  keen  scrutiny,  and  muttered : 

"  Crazy ;  crazy  as  a  coot !  But  a  gentleman, — 
yes !  yes !  ' '  and  rising  from  the  table  he  very 
courteously  offered  him  a  chair. 

The  visitor  waved  it  aside  with  a  sort  of  civil 
scorn. 

"  It  may  concern  you  to  know,"  said  he,  with 
penetrating  slowness,  "  that  not  far  from  here  a 
white  woman  and  her  child  are  being  carried  into 
captivity  by  savages." 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  information,  sir,"  replied 


2i8  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

the  Major,  as  if  it  had  been  the  most  ordinary 
affair  in  the  world.     "  Where  are  they  ?  " 

"  By  now,  passing  through  Jolicoeur,  on  their 
way  north  to  the  villages  of  the  Nepisiguit,"  said 
Grul.  "  If  you  march  from  here  straight  toward 
Tidnish  you  will  cross  their  trail." 

"  I  am  obliged  to  you,"  said  the  Major  again. 
"  It  shall  be  seen  to.  Have  a  glass  of  wine  with 
— "  but  he  stopped  with  an  indignant  snort  when 
he  found  himself  addressing  the  visitor's  uncere- 
monious back.  In  a  second  Grul  was  gone,  as 
swiftly  and  noiselessly  as  he  came. 

"  'Pon  my  word!  "  ejaculated  the  Major,  sit- 
ting down.  "  Most  singular!  But  clear;  quite 
clear!  Come,  gentlemen,  do  justice  to  this  good 
roast.  Another  cut,  I  beg  you,  Mr.  Wrenne. 
We  must  be  stirring  right  after  we  have  finished 
dinner!  " 

But  Mr.  Wrenne  was  on  his  feet,  preparing  to 
protest  against  delay.  Captain  Sansom,  how- 
ever, was  ahead  of  him. 

**  I  entreat  you,  sir,"  he  cried  passionately, 
"  let  me  take  twenty  file  and  go  at  once  in  pur- 
suit.    They  will  be  already  far  ahead  of  us!  " 

"  Tut!  tut!  "  rejoined  the  Major,  impatiently. 


GrQl's  Gift  219 

"  They  must  travel  but  slowly,  with  a  woman. 
Our  fellows  will  soon  overtake  them.  Shall  a 
dinner  like  this  be  spoiled  for  a  matter  of  two 
hours'  extra  tramping  ?  Sit  down,  sit  down, 
Captain  Sansom!  " 

The  Captain  sat  down,  but  instantly  sprang  up 
again,  in  a  strong  excitement.  "  But  the  case  is 
urgent,  sir!  "  he  cried.  "  I  feel  that  it  is  most 
urgent.  This  morning,  an  hour  or  two  back, 
when  I  was  in  the  casemate,  I  distinctly  heard  a 
woman's  voice  call  for  help,  somewhere  from  the 
woods  beyond  Beaubassin.  You  may  laugh,  but 
I  cannot  rest  a  moment  till  we  set  out." 

The  Major  sat  back  in  his  chair  and  scanned 
the  speaker. 

"  Totally  absurd,  Captain  Sansom,"  said  he. 
"  The  woods  are  two  miles  away.  And  more- 
over, you  were  in  the  casemate,  where  you  could 
not  hear  if  she  had  called  from  the  barracks 
windows!  " 

"  I  know  it  is  impossible,  but " 

"  But,  sit  down,  sir!  "  interrupted  the  Major 
testily.  And  you,  too,  Mr.  Wrenne.  I  know 
my  business,  gentlemen!  " 

Both  sat  down,  but  rose  again  at  once,  and 


220  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

this  time  the  other  officers  got  up  with  them. 
The  Major's  face  darkened;  but  before  he  could 
thunder,  Captain  Sansom  spoke  again  with 
vehement  appeal: 

"  And  we  know  our  duty,  sir,  and  will  obey 
you  to  the  letter,"  he  cried,  "  but  let  me  beg 
you  to  hear  me  patiently.  How  can  we  sit  here, 
warm  and  safe,  laughing  over  this  good  dinner, 
when  a  countrywoman  of  ours  and  a  little  child 
are  out  there  helpless  and  hopeless,  in  the  hands 
of  those  red  devils  of  La  Game's,  being  dragged 
to  who  knows  what  fate  ?  Think  of  it,  sir.  Why, 
how  could  we  sit  here  guzzling  ?  The  stuff  would 
choke  us.  You  have  no  child  of  your  own, — no 
wife, — or  you  could  not  be  so  unmoved,  Major 
Ford,  at  the  thought  of  that " 

"  No,  Captain  Sansom,  I  have  no  wife,  no 
child,"  interrupted  the  Major,  gravely,  and  a 
little  sadly.  "  I  thank  God  for  it!  Be  thankful 
your  own  are  safe  in  Boston,  far  away  from  the 
perils  of  a  soldier's  life.  I  am  not  so  indifferent, 
however,  as  you  think ;  only,  impetuosity  seemed 
to  me  needless  in  this  matter.  Sit  down,  gentle- 
men !  It  shall  be  as  you  wish.  You  may  go  at 
once.  Captain,  taking  one   of   our  officers  with 


Grtil's  Gift  221 

you,  and  twenty  men.  Let  them  put  bread  and 
beef  in  their  knapsacks.  You  will  select,  of 
course,  men  who  can  use  these  abominable  snow- 
shoes.     Whom  do  you  wish  to  help  you  ?  " 

All  the  company  sprang  up  to  volunteer,  but 
Captain  Sansom  laid  his  hand  on  young  Wrenne's 
shoulder. 

**  Thank  you.  Major!  "  he  exclaimed  with 
elation  in  his  voice.  "  I  '11  take  Wrenne,  if  he 
is  willing.  And  if  the  rest  of  you  will  save  a 
little  of  the  pudding  for  us,  you  will  see  us  back 
shortly  to  eat  it,  with  good  appetite  and  good 
conscience!  " 

"  Who  would  have  thought,  gentlemen," 
grumbled  the  Major,  peering  around  upon  the 
diminished  company  as  Sansom  and  Wrenne 
hastily  withdrew,  "  that  my  staff  would  be  threat- 
ening mutiny  in  the  very  teeth  of  a  Christmas 
dinner!  " 

III 

Of  the  half  -  raw,  half  -  burned  moose-meat, 
thrown  to  her  by  her  captors,  as  to  a  dog,  the 
woman  forced  herself  to  eat  abundantly,  fearing 
what  might  happen   if  her  strength  should  fail. 


222  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

The  child  was  by  this  time  hungry  enough  to 
make  a  meal  off  the  shreds  which  had  chanced 
upon  a  fair  roasting. 

At  the  first  of  the  march  the  woman  found 
herself  so  stiff  that  she  could  hardly  take  a  step 
without  groaning  and  tottering;  but  the  dread 
of  having  Jerry  taken  from  her  held  her  silent, 
and  presently  her  force  came  back  and  she  was 
able  to  march  rapidly  and  easily.  This  fact, 
however,  she  was  astute  enough  to  conceal.  She 
realised  that  if  haste  were  an  object  to  her  cap- 
tors, delay  must  be  an  object  to  the  captives. 
She  therefore  kept  her  fatigue  in  evidence,  and 
lagged  as  much  as  she  dared,  enduring  blows 
without  a  murmur,  and  finally,  convincing  the 
savages  that  she  was  doing  her  best. 

Well  on  in  the  morning,  when  the  sun  was  high 
over  the  ancient,  imperturbable  fir-trees,  the  band 
crossed  a  narrow  piece  of  open,  jutting  into  the 
forest  from  the  marsh-levels.  Here  there  was  a  mo- 
ment's pause.  The  savage  who  spoke  French  came 
up  to  her  and  grabbed  her  roughly  by  the  arm. 

"  Look  !  "  said  he,  grinning  maliciously. 
' '  English  there !  Call  them !  Maybe  they  hear 
and  come  get  you!  " 


GrQl's  Gift  223 

Following  his  gesture,  she  looked  blankly  out 
across  the  marshes ;  but  started  and  quivered  to 
see  the  red  flag  flying  over  the  low  ramparts  of 
an  English  fort. 

Her  eyes  blinded  at  once  with  tears,  and  her 
first  impulse  was  to  scream  for  succour.  But  she 
saw  the  folly  of  it,  and  would  not  give  the  savages 
cause  for  jeers.  Only  her  heart, — that  cried  out 
desperately,  till  she  felt  that  those  in  the  fort 
must  feel,  if  they  could  not  hear,  the  frantic 
summons. 

Some  while  later  they  crossed  the  bed  of  a 
small  tidal  stream  left  empty  by  the  ebb.  It 
was  a  chaos  of  ragged  and  mud -stained  ice-cakes, 
where  the  footing  was  painfully  difficult.  Carry- 
ing her  snowshoes  on  one  arm,  Jerry  on  the  other, 
she  struggled  to  keep  up  with  the  band,  but  in 
the  effort  she  fell  and  bruised  herself  sorely. 
Jerry,  too,  was  shaken,  though  not  hurt,  and  he 
began  to  cry. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  sound  passed  unnoticed. 
Then  fierce  eyes  turned  menacingly  upon  her, 
and  she  strove  to  quiet  him,  but  in  vain.  At 
last  the  nearest  savage  made  a  cruel  pass  at  the 
little  one's  head  with  the  handle  of  his  hatchet. 


2  24  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

The  woman  swerved  like  lightning,  and  caught 
the  stroke  upon  her  own  arm,  at  the  same  time 
flashing  upon  the  brute  a  look  of  such  murderous 
fury  that  he  laughed,  and  made  no  attempt  to 
provoke  her  further.  Jerry,  however,  seemed  to 
realise  the  need  of  silence,  for  he  suddenly  stopped 
crying,  and  even  strove  to  choke  back  his  wrench- 
ing, voiceless  sobs. 

From  this  forward  the  woman  walked  sunken 
in  a  sort  of  numbness.  She  forgot  to  hang  back 
and  delay  the  march.  She  did  not  think,  nor 
fear,  nor  hope,  nor  despair.  She  merely  hugged 
the  child  close  to  her  breast,  and  aimlessly  counted 
her  steps. 

As  she  remembered  afterward,  however,  her 
sense  of  smell  became  abnormally  acute;  so  that 
she  noted,  unconsciously,  the  different  kinds  of 
woods  as  they  passed  through  them.  The  biting, 
medicinal  savour  of  the  cedar  thickets  fixed  itself 
in  her  brain,  to  be  followed  by  the  thin  pungency 
of  the  hackmatack  swamps,  the  tonic  spiciness  of 
the  fir  and  spruce  groves,  the  nutty  aroma  of  the 
hardwood  ridges.  The  curious  legacy  of  that 
horrible  march  was  a  quite  useless  but  remark- 
able capacity  for  distinguishing  different  kinds 


Grdl's  Gift  225 

of  forest  growth  when  passing  through  them  in 
the  dark  all  her  life  after. 

About  sunset  halt  was  called  and  a  fire  built, 
although,  as  there  were  no  preparations  for  a 
camp  such  as  they  had  occupied  the  night  before, 
the  woman  vaguely  concluded  that  the  march 
would  be  resumed  after  eating.  Jerry  had  com- 
plained of  hunger,  and  now  a  piece  of  dried  raw 
fish  was  flung  to  her. 

Repugnant  as  it  was,  she  forced  herself  to  eat 
it,  and  tried  to  get  the  child  to  follow  her  ex- 
ample. He  refused  obstinately,  and  at  length 
began  to  cry  for  bread  and  butter. 

In  a  growing  panic  she  tried  to  soothe  him, 
conscious  of  the  cruel  eyes  of  anger  which  the 
sound  drew  upon  them.  With  desperate  haste 
she  began  to  whisper  to  him  a  wonderful  fairy 
story  to  divert  his  attention. 

In  the  midst  of  the  tale  she  was  startled  by  a 
scattering  volley  of  musket  shots  almost  at  her 
back.  The  savages  leaped  up,  some  of  them  to 
fall  back  again  and  lie  quite  still. 

Then  came  shouts  and  cries,   English  voices, 

rude  but  blessed  English  oaths ;  and  she  sprang 

to  her   feet.     The   savages  were  fleeing.     Fur- 
's 


226  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

capped,  long-coated  men  were  running  toward 
her.  One  of  them,  his  dark  face  smitten  with 
amazement,  was  far  in  advance, — was  close  to 
her!  Jerry  struggled  to  escape  from  her  en- 
circling arms. 

Papa !  Papa !  Papa !  "  he  cried ;  and  the 
woman,  tottering  forward,  felt  her  knees  give 
way.  She  fell,  blind  with  joy,  into  the  arms  of 
Captain  John  Sansom. 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift 

Being  an  Adventure  of  Orderly-Sergeant  Peter 
Cunliffe  of  the  — th  Company,  Connecticut 
Volunteers,  Stationed  at  Annapolis  Royal, 
January,  1755,  A. D. 

EMERGING  from  the  thick  woods  south  of 
the  Habitants  River  and  coming  suddenly 
upon  the  open  crest  of  Gaspereau  Ridge,  I  caught 
my  first  glimpse  of  Grand  Pr6  village  far  down 
upon  the  skirt  of  the  spacious  Minas  Valley. 
Much  had  I  heard  of  Grand  Pr6,  chief  settlement 
of  these  Acadian  folk  whom  we  had  conquered 
and  torn  from  the  Crown  of  France;  and  now 
that  my  eyes  rested  upon  it,  full  little  likeness 
did  I  find  therein  to  my  own  Connecticut  hamlets. 
Its  one  snowy  street,  along  by  the  marsh  edge, 
was  beaded,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  with  black 
roofs,  wide-gabled  and  flaring  at  the  eaves.  Here 
and  there  along  the  street,  stiff  and  tall  as  the 
spire  of  the  village  church,  rose  the  leafless  towers 

237 


228  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

of  the  Lombardy  poplars,  while  behind  and  about 
the  cottages  huddled  the  squat  shapes  of  apple- 
tree  and  willow.  I  cast  a  curious  eye  out  over 
the  dead-white  levels  of  the  famed  Acadian 
marshes  to  the  shifting  tide-fields  of  Minas  water, 
and  the  blue-black  rampart  of  Mount  Blomidon 
guarding  its  mouth.  All  this  ample  scene  I  took 
in  at  a  sweep,  so  that  I  have  remembered  it  as  if 
graved  upon  my  brain.  It  was  but  one  look, 
however,  and  that  a  brief  one.  Then  came  the 
snow. 

It  came  thick,  dry,  fine,  swirling  fiercely  on  a 
bone-piercing  blast ;  and  between  two  gasps,  as  it 
were,  I  found  myself  imprisoned  in  a  whirlwind. 
Not  three  paces  before  me  or  upon  either  hand 
could  I  see.  Had  the  trail  not  been  deep  trodden 
I  should  have  lost  it  in  a  trice ;  but  as  it  was  my 
feet  striking  the  hard  side-ridges  of  frozen  snow 
kept  me  straight.  When  the  wind  blew  dead  in 
my  teeth  I  bowed  my  head,  leaned  up  against  it 
sturdily,  and  made  some  way.  But  anon  it 
would  ease  of  a  sudden,  whereupon  I  would 
stumble  forward  all  but  headlong;  and  anon,  ere 
I  could  recover,  it  would  swoop  with  roar  and 
whistle  upon  my  flank,   nigh  routing  me.     To 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  229 

prevent  my  cloak  being  whisked  away  I  had  to 
keep  my  arms  folded  close,  which  made  balance 
hard  to  maintain  in  the  face  of  this  vindictive 
buffeting.  Right  heartily  did  I  curse  my  heavy 
and  smooth-soled  jack-boots,  ill-fitted  for  a  march 
like  this;  and  I  growled  at  my  folly  in  having 
refused  the  old  Acadian's  offer  of  moccasins  that 
same  morning,  when,  my  horse  having  on  a  sud- 
den gone  lame,  I  was  forced  to  leave  him  at  old 
Masson's  cabin  on  the  upper  Habitants  stream 
and  push  forward  afoot  with  my  despatches. 

What  with  fighting  the  wind,  keeping  the  drift 
out  of  my  eyes,  catching  for  breath  and  con- 
demning my  boots,  I  was  soon  in  a  fine  ill- 
humour.  And  I  had  calculated — before  giving 
up  the  horse — that  I  might  achieve  to  reach 
Halifax  that  same  night. 

"  But  no  step  beyond  Grand  Pr6  for  me  this 
day,"  I  grunted  to  myself. 

At  last  a  black  mass  loomed  suddenly  before 
me  through  the  drift,  and  under  shelter  of  it  the 
air  cleared  a  little,  revealing  a  thicket  of  firs.  At 
this  point  the  trail  turned  sharply  down  into  the 
valley.  But  my  journeying  was  not  eased  by 
the  change,  for  the  wind  came  terrifically  along 


230  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

the  open  hillside,  and  my  feet  proved  even  less 
manageable  on  the  slope  than  on  the  level. 
Nevertheless,  I  made  advance,  for  whether  I 
walked,  or  plunged,  or  fell,  it  was  ever  down-hill, 
ever  so  much  the  nearer  to  a  Grand  Pr6  fire- 
side. 

Now,  when  I  had  thus  with  more  determination 
than  dignity  accomplished  a  good  portion  of  the 
descent,  the  unexpected  happened,  as  it  will. 
Under  my  very  feet  appeared  a  woman's  figure, 
cloaked  and  muffled,  crouched  in  the  middle  of 
the  way.  With  a  huge  effort  I  saved  myself  from 
stumbling  over  her. 

As  it  was,  I  struck  her  right  smartly  with  my 
foot,  and  cried  out,  fearing  I  had  hurt  her. 

She  stirred  and  sat  straight  up  with  a  startled 
exclamation.  By  the  voice  I  knew  that  she  was 
young;  but  her  face,  hidden  by  a  heavy  cloak 
which  wrapped  her  whole  form,  I  tried  in  vain  to 
see. 

"  Pardon  me,  mademoiselle,"  I  said  in  French, 
"  but  I  almost  fell  over  you.  This  beastly  drift! 
One  can't  see  past  his  nose.  Allow  me  to  help 
you.     Are  you  hurt  ?  " 

"  Oh,  but  no,  monsieur,  I  assure  you!"  she 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  231 

cried  in  a  laughing  voice,  and  sprang  lightly  to 
her  feet.  "  This  dreadful  storm,  that  's  all!  It 
almost  tired  me  out.  So  I  just  sat  down  and 
covered  up  my  head  to  get  my  breath,  you  see!  " 

To  my  ears  this  was  the  sweetest  voice  I  had 
ever  heard.  It  seemed  like  a  ray  of  clear  sun- 
light across  the  whirling  dusk  of  the  storm. 

"  It  must,"  thought  I,  "  come  from  lovely 
lips.  Such  a  voice  could  not  be  without  beauty 
to  neighbour  it!  " 

But  aloud  I  said — "  'T  is  no  place  here  for  such 
as  you,  mademoiselle!  I  beg  that  you  will  let 
me  conduct  you  to  the  nearest  shelter." 

At  this  she  laughed  very  prettily. 

**  But  I  am  none  the  worse  for  this,  monsieur!  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  I  am  Acadienne.  We  do  not  fear 
storms,  we !  Only,  I  got  tired  out.  I  was  coming 
over  from  the  Gaspereau  when  the  storm  caught 
me.     I  must  make  haste  down  to  the  village." 

"  That  way  lies  my  way  also,  mademoiselle," 
said  I,  with  perhaps  more  eagerness  than  neces- 
sary, so  wrought  her  voice  upon  my  heart-strings. 
**  If  you  will  not  let  me  serve  you  as  escort,  I 
pray  you  of  your  charity  serve  me  as  guide,  for  I 
am  a  stranger  and  confused  in  this  pother," 


232  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  Since  you  acknowledge,  monsieur,"  she  an- 
swered, with  a  delicate  mockery  in  her  tone, 
**  that  it  is  you,  not  I,  who  need  the  help,  for 
your  humility,  so  rare  a  virtue  in  a  man  and  an 
Englishman,  I  will  help  you.  You  may  walk 
down  to  the  village  with  me,  and  I  will  show  you 
the  way !  ' ' 

But  for  all  her  wilful  spurning  of  my  succour  it 
was  instantly  clear  that  she  required  me.  The 
wind,  clapping  huge  hands  upon  her  heavy  cloak, 
whisked  her  light  form  hither  and  thither  with  a 
most  fatiguing  incivility.  I  could  not  endure  to 
see  it. 

"  Mademoiselle!  "  I  pleaded,  "  let  me  entreat 
you  to  take  my  arm  and  steady  yourself.  This 
wind  is  too  violent  for  you !  ' ' 

Blown  up  against  me  for  an  instant  she  as  in- 
stantly fluttered  away  out  of  reach  of  the  hand 
which  I  put  forth  to  detain  her. 

"  I  see  that  you  go  not  so  very  steadily  your- 
self," she  retorted,  "  for  all  your  stature,  mon- 
sieur! " 

I  grew  subtle  in  my  wits,  as  her  wilfulness 
worked  upon  me. 

"  Alas,  mademoiselle !  "  said  I,  "  you  penetrate 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  233 

my  weakness.  It  was  but  my  device  to  gain 
your  help  again.  I  cannot  deceive  you.  You 
see  how  I  go  sh'pping  about  in  these  great  boots; 
and  how  the  wind  makes  merry  with  my  inches ! 
I  pray  you,  take  my  arm  to  steady  me !  And 
salve  my  vanity  by  letting  me  think  my  bulk  may 
break  the  gale  for  you  a  little!  " 

"  Since  you  are  so  modest  I  will  take  your  arm 
and  help  you  to  walk  steadily,  monsieur!  "  she 
assented,  coming  up  upon  my  left  side  and  trust- 
fully slipping  a  small,  mittened  hand  under  my 
cloak.  "  And — ^yes,  you  do  keep  off  the  wind 
very  well.  Big  men  are  often  quite  useful — but 
they  are  so  often  stupid !  Have  you  not  observed 
it,  monsieur  ?  " 

As  she  spoke  the  hood  of  her  cloak  fell  open, 
and  I  saw  the  most  radiant  of  faces  upturned  to 
mine.  I  trembled,  veritably,  as  the  enchantment 
of  those  great,  laughing  eyes  smote  into  my  heart. 
The  face  was  a  clear,  pale  olive,  the  ruddy  attest- 
ation of  health  aglow  upon  cheeks  and  lips. 

I  was  bewildered.  For  the  moment  I  quite  lost 
my  wits.  I  desired  desperately  to  prove  to  her 
that  I  did  not  fall  within  her  swooping  condemn- 
ation of  big  men.     I  burned  to  say  nice  things 


234  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

and  to  say  them  with  that  nicety  which  would 
commend  me  in  her  eyes.  But  alas!  my  tongue 
was  dumb.  Not  often  has  it  so  shamelessly  failed 
me  as  there  on  the  Grand  Pr6  hillside. 

She  appeared  to  misunderstand  my  silence. 
Perhaps  she  thought  that,  being  large  and  an 
Englishman  and  stupid,  I  was  offended.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  she  quit  her  raillery  and  asked 
with  a  kindly  warmth  of  interest : 

"  Have  you  journeyed  far,  monsieur  ?  You 
seem  nigh  spent !  ' ' 

"  I  have  come  all  the  way  from  Annapolis, 
mademoiselle,"  said  I,  "  and  in  much  haste,  for 
I  bear  despatches  to  the  Governor  at  Halifax. 
My  horse  went  lame  on  a  sudden  last  night,  and 
I  have  come  on  from  old  Masson's  afoot  this 
morning." 

"  You  have  done  well,  monsieur — and  in  those 
boots!  "  said  she.  "  And  you  do  well  now  to 
turn  aside  and  bide  in  Grand  Pr6  till  the  storm 
lightens!  " 

There  was  something  of  a  searching  earnestness 
in  the  look  she  turned  upon  me,  but  its  signifi- 
cance slipped  me  at  the  time. 

"Indeed,   you   wrong    me!"    I   answered   in 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  235 

haste.  "  This  storm  would  not  stay  me  or  turn 
me  from  the  straight  path.  But  I  have  papers 
also  for  that  good  friend  of  the  English,  Monsieur 
Giles  de  Lamourie,  of  Grand  Pr^  village.  It  is 
to  him,  mademoiselle,  I  would  pray  you  guide 
me." 

Do  you  realise, ' '  she  asked  very  gravely,  after 
a  pause,  **  that  these  are  perilous  times  for  the 
bearer  of  despatches  ?  How  do  you  know,  mon- 
sieur, that  I  am  not  a  spy  of  the  Black  Abb6  ?  " 

"  For  the  danger,"  said  I,  with  as  grand  an  air 
as  one  may  well  assume  in  a  gale  of  wind,,  '*  for 
the  danger,  if  there  be  any,  I  thank  Heaven.  I 
have  found  your  Acadie  very  safe  and  tame 
hitherto.  And  for  your  treachery,  mademoiselle, 
let  me  hazard  it  that  if  you  be  a  traitor  there  is 
no  woman  true !  Though  I  know  not  so  much  as 
your  name,  I  have  looked  into  your  eyes  and  I 
dare  swear  that  a  man's  life  and  honour  both 
would  rest  safe  in  the  keeping  of  your  loyalty." 

My  speech  was  earnest,  perhaps,  for  an  ac- 
quaintance so  exceeding  brief.  She  thrust  off  to 
arm's  length  and  dropped  me  a  little  courtesy. 

"  For  my  name,  monsieur,"  she  exclaimed 
mocking  my  stilted  phrases,  "  it  is  Lise  Le  Blanc, 


236  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

at  your  service,  and  for  my  loyalty,  your  con- 
fidence, great  as  it  is,  does  it  no  more  than 
justice." 

"  It  is  a  name  of  melody,"  I  muttered,  savour- 
ing it  softly  on  my  tongue. 

To  this,  if  she  heard  it,  she  made  no  reply; 
and  for  a  space  we  pushed  on  in  silence.  The 
conversation,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  had  taken 
longer  in  the  making  than  in  the  telling,  for  it  is 
ill  talking  in  a  hurricane  of  snow,  and  there  was 
breath  to  be  gasped  for ;  and  words  blown  incon- 
tinently away  had  to  be  repeated.  So  by  now 
we  were  come  well  down  into  the  valley.  I  was 
content  with  the  silence.  The  feel  of  her  small 
hand  within  my  arm,  the  pressing  of  her  slim 
shoulder  to  my  side,  gave  me  unspeakable  satis- 
faction. The  more  I  took  note  of  this  the  more 
I  grew  amazed. 

**  Peter,  my  son,"  I  said  to  myself  presently, 
"  of  a  surety  thou  art  in  love.  And  so  lightly 
overthrown,  too !  Fie  upon  thee,  and  thou  this 
thirty  year  a  bachelor!  Well  do  I  know  what 
thou  'It  be  doing.  Thou  wilt  get  leave  of  ab- 
sence, this  business  done,  and  returning  in  foolish 
haste  to  Grand  Pr6,  thou  'It  set  thyself  to  woo 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  237 

this  maid  in  right  New  England  fashion."  And 
here  I  laughed  softly,  being  by  nature  hopeful. 

The  girl  stopped: 

"  There  is  nothing  to  laugh  at,  monsieur,"  she 
cried  quickly. 

I  felt  abashed. 

"  I  laughed  but  for  sheer  joy  at  my  good 
fortune  in  meeting  you,  mademoiselle,  "  I  stam- 
mered. 

"  You  are  uttering  but  light  breath  of  compli- 
ment, monsieur,"  she  answered  very  seriously. 
"  But  indeed  in  having  met  me  you  are  more 
fortunate  than  you  dream.  Here  is  Grand  Pr6." 
And  peering  through  the  whirl  of  drift  I  made 
out  the  dim  shape  of  a  cottage.  "  Listen,"  she 
went  on.  "  I  have  let  you  come  so  far  because 
I  could  not  see  clearly  in  my  mind  what  was  best 
to  be  done.  You  must  now  make  haste  back, 
take  the  Piziquid  trail  and  put  many  miles  be- 
tween you  and  Grand  Pr6  ere  you  sleep.  But 
no,  you  must  first  rest  and  eat.  This  storm  is  a 
hiding  in  itself.  I  will  take  you  to  the  house  of 
the  good  Cur6,  Father  Fafard,  whom  you  can 
trust.  But  you  must  not  linger.  You  must  get 
away  from  this  place  while  the  storm  lasts." 


238  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

I  stared  down  in  dumb  bewilderment  at  her 
eager,  determined  face.  "  But  how,  mademoi- 
selle ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  managed  to  gasp. 
"  How  can  I  leave  Grand  Pr^  without  doing  my 
errand  to  Monsieur  de  Lamourie  ?  And  why 
should  I  leave  Grand  Pr6  by  stealth  ?  It  is  not 
so  I  have  come!  " 

She  made  a  little  impatient  gesture — though 
why  she  should  expect  me  to  understand  on  so 
slight  an  explanation  and  to  obey  her  blindly 
was  something  I  could  not  well  comprehend. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  but  it  is  death  for  you  to 
go  on  to  Monsieur  de  Lamourie's  !  Listen  ! 
The  Black  Abb^  is  there.  His  savages  from  the 
Shubenacadie  are  there.  It  i§  for  you  they  are 
watching.  The  Black  Abb6  knows  you  have  left 
Annapolis  with  despatches  both  for  Halifax  and 
for  Monsieur  de  Lamourie,  against  whom  he 
seeks  proof  of  dealings  with  the  English,  If  you 
go  forward  now  your  papers  will  never  reach  their 
goal,  and  you  will  never  see  Halifax!  " 

It  is  always  hard  for  me  to  believe  in  a  stone 
wall  till  I  run  my  head  against  it.  I  smiled  upon 
her,  well  pleased  at  her  anxiety,  which  seemed  to 
be  in  part  on  my  own  account. 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  239 

"  I  have  heard  of  this  La  Game — '  The  Black 
Abb^,'  as  you  call  him.  I  am  very  curious  to 
meet  him,  mademoiselle!"  said  I.  "He  is 
certainly  a  great  scoundrel,  and  I  think  I  see  my 
opportunity  to  do  this  land  a  service,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  serving  myself  to  a  speedy  promotion!  " 

"  You  are  conceited  as  well  as  stupid,  mon- 
sieur!" she  retorted,  severely.  "Let  me  tell 
you,  you  will  win  no  credit  off  Father  La 
Game!" 

"  I  will  but  do  my  duty  and  obey  my  orders 
in  trying,"  said  I,  more  humbly. 

"He  has  a  half -score  of  savages  at  his  back," 
she  went  on. 

"  Indians!  "  I  cried,  with  some  scorn  in  my 
voice.  "  Ten  of  them!  That  's  about  two  and 
a  half  white  men!  'T  is  but  odds  enough  to 
make  the  matter  interesting.  I  pray  you  direct 
me  to  the  place,  mademoiselle,  for  I  am  hungry 
and  may  have  to  fight  for  my  dinner,  as  it  seems." 

But  she  held  my  arm  persuasively,  and  I  could 
but  await  her  pleasure. 

"  Think  of  others,  monsieur,"  she  pleaded, 
"  if  you  won't  think  of  yourself  or  of  the  papers 
in  your  charge.     You  will  compromise  Monsieur 


240  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

de  Lamourie  and  bring  I  know  not  what  swift 
ruin  upon  his  house!  " 

"  De  Lamourie  is  a  brave  man,  if  report  speaks 
true,"  said  I,  obstinately.  "  We  will  stand  to- 
gether, he  and  I.  But  have  no  fear  for  him, 
mademoiselle.  He  has  all  the  power  of  England 
behind  him!  " 

"  Little  may  that  avail  him,  alas!  "  she  ex- 
claimed bitterly,  hopeless,  as  it  seemed,  of  persuad- 
ing me.     "  You  forget  Dartmouth,  monsieur!  " 

I  had  forgotten  Dartmouth.  I  remembered 
now  with  horror  that  red  outrage  which  our  sold- 
iers in  Halifax,  just  across  the  harbour,  had  been 
powerless  to  prevent. 

"  But  that  was  before  our  eyes  were  opened, 
mademoiselle,"  I  persisted. 

"  Yours  are  so  wide  open  now!  "  she  muttered, 
scornfully.  "  But  come,  if  you  must,  monsieur. 
At  least  I  will  lead  you  by  the  safer  way,  that 
you  may  have  some  ghost  of  a  chance  of  coming 
at  Monsieur  de  Lamourie  before  your  doom  over- 
takes you." 

Turning  aside  from  the  main  road  she  led  me 
quickly  along  a  narrow  trail.  From  a  glimpse  of 
a  barn  and  outhouses  caught  through  the  drift  I 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  241 

gathered  that  we  were  skirting  the  rear  of  the 
village.  We  struggled  on  in  silence,  the  gale  now 
squarely  in  our  teeth ;  and  I  felt  that  she  was  dis- 
pleased with  me.  It  was  clear  to  me,  however, 
that  I  could  not  in  decency  be  thwarted  by  a  rascal 
abb6  or  affrighted  by  a  handful  of  redskins.  Much 
more  did  her  displeasure  affright  me,  and  even 
that  I  brought  myself  to  endure  for  the  moment. 

Presently  we  came  to  a  small  cottage  whose 
bright  red  door  confronted  us  abruptly  through 
the  drift.  Here  mademoiselle  stopped  and  turned 
to  me  with  her  hand  upon  the  latch. 

"  But  surely,"  I  exclaimed,  "  so  modest  a 
dwelling  is  not  the  home  of  the  chief  man  in 
Grand  Pr6!" 

"  This  is  not  Monsieur  de  Lamourie's  house," 
she  answered  with  something  of  agitation  in  her 
voice  which  I  could  not  understand.  "  But  here 
lives  one  of  his  most  faithful  friends  and  servants, 
old  Mother  Peche.  I  beg  you  to  come  inside 
and  wait  a  few  moments  while  I  make  a  little  re- 
connoisance!  "  Herewith  she  laughed,  but  in  a 
manner  that  seemed  to  me  unnatural. 

Seeing  me  hesitate,  loath  to  delay  yet  loath  to 
refuse  her,  she  burst  out  passionately : 

t6 


242  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  I  love  the  house  of  De  Lamourie,  monsieur! 
Mademoiselle  Yvonne  de  Lamourie  I  love  better 
than  anyone  else  in  the  world.  I  will  not  have 
ruin  brought  upon  them  by  your  obstinacy,  when 
it  may  so  easily  be  avoided !  I  have  served  you 
faithfully  in  guiding  you  so  far  and  keeping  you 
from  running  your  neck  into  the  noose.  You 
cannot,  for  shame's  sake,  deny  me  this  little  that 
I  ask  now.  Come  in  and  wait  here.  I  will  find 
out  where  the  sentinels  are  posted,  and  then,  if 
necessary,  lead  you  myself  safely  into  Monsieur 
de  Lamourie's  presence!  " 

What  could  I  do  but  yield  ? 

"  Not  to  shun  the  Black  Abb6,  mademoiselle," 
I  answered,  "  but  to  obey  your  wishes  and  to 
gain  the  pleasure  of  your  further  guidance,  I  will 
wait.  But  my  orders  are  stringent.  They  forbid 
me  to  wait  long.  A  soldier  has  small  freedom  to 
choose  between  desire  and  duty — you  know  that 
and  will  forgive  me  if  I  seem  uncompliant,  will 
you  not  ?  " 

She  flashed  upon  me  a  wide-eyed  glory  of 
thanks  for  reward,  and  murmured  as  she  threw 
open  the  red  door : 

"  You   are  not  quite   so   unkind  and  wrong- 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  243 

headed  as  I  began  to  fear !  I  should  have  hated 
you  forever  if  you  had  refused." 

"  It  is  well  for  thee,  Peter  Cunliffe,"  said  I  to 
myself,  following  her  into  a  little  low-ceiled  warm 
room,"  that  thou  hadst  wit  enough  not  to  refuse. ' ' 

The  room  was  inviting  to  a  cold  and  hungry 
man.  Its  walls  of  dark  wood,  polished  in  spots 
by  the  rubbing  of  many  shoulders,  reflected 
pleasant  gleams  from  the  fire  on  the  roomy 
hearth.  The  ceiling  was  of  the  same  time-stained 
wood.  On  the  floor  were  plaited  mats  of  divers 
colouring.  Against  one  wall  stood  a  dresser,  its 
shelves  bright  with  blue,  yellow,  and  brown 
crockery.  Through  the  two  windows,  small  and 
dull,  the  whirling  of  the  storm  was  glimpsed  in  a 
far-off,  comfortable  fashion.  On  a  clumsy  crane 
swung  over  the  hottest  of  the  fire  was  hanging  a 
covered  pot  whence  came  unctuous  bubblings  and 
a  most  appetising  savour.  I  flung  off  my  cloak 
and  drew  up  a  chair  into  the  close  neighbourhood 
of  that  aroma.  I  had  not  realised  that  I  was  so 
hungry. 

Mademoiselle  had  disappeared  right  promptly 
upon  our  entrance.  For  some  minutes  I  was 
alone.     Then  a  bent  and  gaunt  old  woman  ap- 


244  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

peared  briskly  from  a  back  room,  courtesied  to 
me  a  very  amiable  welcome  and  set  a  ruddy  steak 
of  moose-meat  to  broil  right  before  my  interested 
nose. 

"  'T  is  a  bit  for  you,  monsieur,"  she  ex- 
claimed, with  a  confidential  air,  "  to  rest  you 
while  she  's  gone.  A  bit  an'  a  sup  won't  be 
amiss,  now,  to  a  man  who  's  footed  it  all  the  way 
from  old  Masson's!  " 

I  thanked  her  with  a  hearty  agreement ;  and  I 
considered  how  a  man  may  be  ill-fitted  for  emerg- 
encies when  he  carries  an  empty  stomach.  It  was 
with  an  easy  mind  as  to  my  duty,  then,  that  I 
watched  the  old  dame  at  her  cooking.  Surely,  I 
thought,  she  would  pass  for  a  witch  in  New  Eng- 
land. A  dark-red  shawl  folded  over  her  shoulders 
made  a  glow  of  colour  with  the  sallow  dark  of  her 
skin,  and  her  high-boned  cheeks,  astonishingly 
lean,  appeared  to  me  like  grim  abutments  to  the 
lofty  arch  of  her  nose.  But  her  eyes  most  took 
me.  The  pupils,  very  small,  black,  piercing  like 
knife-points,  were  set  in  so  large  and  clear  an 
expanse  of  white  that  whensoever  they  turned 
glittering  upon  me  I  felt  a  curious  thrill.  There 
was  something  unholy  about  those  eyes  at  first 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  245 

acquaintance.  But  the  old  dame  was  plainly  well 
disposed,  and  it  was  not  many  minutes  ere  even 
those  startling  eyes  ceased  to  trouble  me,  so 
pleasant  was  the  smell  of  the  sputtering  steak. 
And  then — the  relish  of  it !  The  memory  lingers 
yet  upon  my  palate.  Whilst  I  was  eating  it  she 
brewed  me  a  hot  and  well-spiced  brandy  toddy 
which  I  honestly  swore  to  her,  as  the  most  fitting 
form  of  thanks,  was  the  best  drink  that  ever 
crossed  my  lips.  Almost  upon  the  instant  I  felt 
sleepy — which  was  not  unnatural,  but  highly 
inconvenient. 

"  You  have  made  me  quite  too  much  at  ease, 
mother!  "  I  exclaimed,  "  I  am  in  danger  of  for- 
getting my  immediate  duty.  I  must  get  a  breath 
of  air  to  wake  me  up !  " 

I  stooped  for  my  cloak  and  would  have  made 
for  the  door;  but  the  old  dame's  voice  came  so 
sweetly  persuasive  that  somehow  I  found  myself 
back  in  ray  chair,  nodding  at  the  fire  in  amicable 
content. 

"  Bide  still  here  yet  a  little,  monsieur,"  she 
murmured.  "  'T  is  but  a  bit  to  wait,  and  maid 
Lise  will  be  back !  ' ' 

The  words  seemed  some  sort  of  a  pleasant, 


246  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

crooning  charm,  and  my  lids  drooped.  With  a 
violent  effort  I  raised  them  and  sat  up  in  my 
chair.  I  caught  the  old  dame's  eyes  glittering  at 
me  shrewdly,  but  not,  as  I  thought,  in  malice. 
Then  I  heard  a  heavy  breathing  somewhere, 
doubtless  my  own — and  I  knew  no  more. 

With  a  sense  that  I  had  overslept  I  started 
awake  and  sat  up  in  bewilderment.  But  I  could 
see  nothing.  I  was  in  total  darkness.  In  my 
arms  and  wrists  I  felt  a  most  unpleasant  con- 
striction ;  and  presently  I  realised  that  my  hands 
were  securely  bound.  Then  a  swelling  bitterness 
surged  over  me,  the  rage  of  trust  betrayed  and  a 
pang  of  disappointment  that  pierced  my  very 
soul.  How  I  had  trusted  her — and  for  this! 
There  was  a  swooning  sensation  in  my  head,  so  I 
lay  back  again  to  gather  my  wits.  I  felt  that  I 
was  softly  couched  on  thick  furs.  By  the  fresh, 
earthy  smell,  with  a  scent  of  roots  and  apples  and 
butter  subtly  blended,  I  decided  that  I  was  in  a 
cellar.  Then  a  trap-door  somewhere  out  of  my 
range  of  vision  opened  and  let  down  light  enough 
for  me  to  observe  that  in  truth  I  was  in  a  cellar. 
I  sat  up  and  turned  to  mark  who  came. 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  247 

Mademoiselle  it  was.  With  a  lighted  candle  in 
her  hand  she  came  down  the  steps.  The  trap 
closed,  and  I  heard  the  bolt  slide  to  behind  hen 
She  approached  smiling  gayly,  her  eyes  of 
an  unearthly  beauty  in  the  flaring  light.  But 
I  faced  her  with  a  bitter  indignation  in  my 
frown. 

"  I  trust  you  have  slept  well,  monsieur!  "  she 
exclaimed,  very  gayly  and  innocently. 

I  sprang  up,  but  sank  back  at  once,  being  still 
dizzy  from  the  drug  which  that  old  white-eyed 
witch  had  put  into  my  cup.  Nevertheless,  look- 
ing upon  the  girl's  face  I  felt  my  righteous  anger 
fading  out  in  spite  of  myself. 

"  You  are  a  traitor!  "  I  said.  But  alas!  I  spoke 
it  tamely ;  in  sorrow,  not  in  just  wrath. 

Her  face  grew  sober.  She  stood  there  in  front 
of  me,  scanning  me  for  some  moments  in 
silence. 

"  I  have  saved  you  from  yourself,  monsieur. 
I  am  no  traitor  to  you !  ' '  she  said  at  length,  in  a 
low  voice. 

I  looked  down  at  my  fettered  hands. 

"  Free  me,  then!  "  said  I. 

"  Yes,  if  you  will  give  me  your  word  not  to  be 


248  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

rash,  but  to  let  me  get  you  out  of  the  deadly 
peril  which  you  have  blindly  run  into,"  she 
answered. 

"  It  seems  I  have  much  reason  to  trust  you, 
mademoiselle,"  I  retorted  bitterly. 

"  What  you  mean  for  derision  is  but  the  bare 
truth,  monsieur,"  said  she.  "  Oh,  you  are  very 
blind  in  your  English  self-sufficiency.  Did  you 
not  say  to  me  out  there  on  the  hillside  that  you 
would  trust  your  life  and  your  honour  in  my 
hands  ?  I  have  taken  you  at  your  word.  Left 
to  yourself  you  had  flung  both  away  for  nothing 
by  this  time  yesterday.  Your  body  would  have 
been  among  the  ice-cakes  of  the  Gaspereau  ;  your 
papers  in  the  hands  of  the  Black  Abb6;  your 
honour,  wheresoever  it  might  chance  to  be  scat- 
tered! And  the  house  of  De  Lamourie  would 
have  been  whelmed  in  your  ruin !  You  would 
not  hear  reason.  You  thought  to  do  impossibili- 
ties single-handed.  So  I  got  Mother  Pdche,  who 
knows  herbs  and  simples,  to  put  you  to  sleep.  A 
trustworthy  neighbour,  Nicole  Brun  the  smith, 
helped  us  carry  you  down  here — and  a  task  it 
was !  We  feared  the  Black  Abb6  or  his  followers 
might  chance  in;  which,  indeed,  has  twice  hap- 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  249 

pened.     But  here  is  something  that  may  concern 
you  more  than  that !  ' ' 

She  handed  me  a  paper,  which  I  made  shift  to 
read  by  the  dim  light : 

This  is  to  attest  that  I  have  duly  received  from  Mr. 
Sergeant  Cunliffe  the  papers  which  he  was  commis- 
sioned to  deliver  to  me. 

Giles  de  Lamourie. 
At  Grand  Pr^, 
29th  January,  A.D.,  1755. 

I  looked  at  her  with  stupid  inquiry. 

"  I  delivered  it  into  his  own  hands,"  said  she. 
"  He  read  it,  and  burned  it;  and  gave  this  as 
your  quittance!  " 

My  heart  leaped  with  joy!  I  began  to  see. 
She  was,  after  all,  true.  Slowly  I  came  to  under- 
stand the  whole  situation  and  to  feel  convinced  of 
my  own  gross  folly.     I  held  out  my  hands  to  her. 

"  Free  me!"  said  I  a  second  time;  and  I 
added,  humbly,  "  I  will  follow  your  guidance  in 
this  matter!  " 

The  cords  fell  apart.  Instantly  I  felt  in  my 
breast  for  the  other  packet. 

It  was  gone!  I  sprang  up,  very  white  and 
trembling. 


250  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

She  laughed  softly  at  my  scare. 

"  Sit  down,  monsieur;  it  is  safe,"  she  said. 
"  Had  your  enemies  found  you  here  your  life 
would  have  gone  out — pouf ! — but  your  honour 
would  have  been  saved !  I  should  have  got  your 
papers  into  the  Governor's  hands  for  you.  Here 
they  are!"  And  pulling  off  the  end  of  what 
seemed  a  solid  log  of  the  under-pinning,  she  took 
the  packet  out  of  its  cunning  concealment. 

Eagerly  I  stretched  out  my  hand,  but  she 
slipped  the  packet  back  into  the  hiding-place. 

"  No,"  she  said,  with  decision.  "  You  cannot 
tell  what  may  happen  any  moment  when  you 
have  the  Black  Abb6  to  deal  with.  You  know 
now  where  to  find  it.  Leave  it  there  till  you  are 
ready  to  go!  " 

"  And  when  will  that  be,  mademoiselle  ?"  I 
inquired,  very  submissively. 

My  new  tractability  won  her  favour,  and  she 
looked  upon  me  with  eyes  of  some  approval. 

"  Nicole  Brun  shall  guide  you,"  she  answered, 
"  so  you  will  not  have  to  touch  the  beaten  trail. 
He  is  a  woodsman  to  match  the  savages  in  their 
own  craft.  He  will  get  you  safely  to  Halifax 
once  you  are  out  of  Grand  Pr^.     And  you  can 


The  Maid  of  the  Drift  ^51 

leave  to-night,  when  dark  falls,  for  there  is 
nothing  now  to  keep  you  at  Grand  Pr6." 

"  By  Heaven,  but  there  is,  mademoiselle,"  I 
blurted  out,  making  to  grasp  her  hand.  She 
drew  back  and  looked  at  me  curiously,  though 
not,  as  it  seemed,  in  anger. 

"  I  mean,  not  to  keep  me,  but  to  bring  me 
back  in  haste!"  I  stammered,  abashed  at  my 
own  presumption. 

She  was  silent. 

"  I  mean,"  said  I,  desperately  making  another 
trial,  "  I  mean — I  beseech  you,  let  me  come  back 
to  Grand  Pr6  when  this  business  is  done.  Let 
me  come  back  and  strive  to  win  a  better  place  in 
your  regard.  I  have  been  such  a  dull-witted 
animal  —  and  you,  mademoiselle,  you  have 
been " 

But  she  interrupted  me. 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  she,  coolly  meditating — 
but  with  her  eyes,  as  I  could  not  but  notice,  dis- 
creetly cast  down.  "  Let  me  see,  monsieur!  I 
am  not  unwilling  to  think  better  of  you  than  you 
have  so  far  given  occasion.  A  month  hence  the 
Black  Abb6  will  be  far  away,  at  Louisburg.  You 
may  come  to  Grand  Pr6  then,  if  you  wish ;  and 


252  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

your  safety  then  will  not  lie  upon  my  poor 
shoulders.  Yes,  I  think  you  may  come.  I  love 
the  English,  if  they  are  stupid!  " 

"It  is  not  necessary  or  desirable  that  you 
should  love  them  all,  mademoiselle,"  said  I, 
plucking  up  great  courage.  "  But  it  has  come 
to  be  a  matter  of  the  deepest  import  in  life  to  me 
that  you  should  learn  to  love  one  of  them!  " 

"  I  think  it  of  the  deepest  import  to  you,  mon- 
sieur, that  I  should  fetch  your  dinner  without 
delay.  Men  talk  nonsense  when  their  brains 
grow  faint  from  fasting,"  she  retorted,  hurriedly, 
and  vanished  up  the  cellar  stairs. 


The  Eye  of  Gluskap 
I 

IT  was  close  upon  high  tide,  and  the  creek 
that  wound  in  through  the  diked  marshes 
was  rapidly  filling  to  the  brim  with  the  swirling, 
cold,  yellow-grey  waters  of  Minas.  The  sun,  but 
half  risen,  yet  lingered  on  the  wooded  crest  of  the 
Gaspereau  hills;  while  above  hung  a  dappled  sky 
of  pink  and  pale  amber  and  dove-colour.  A  yel- 
low light  streamed  sharply  down  across  the  frost- 
whitened  meadows,  the  smouldering  ruins  of 
Grand  Pr6  village,  and  out  upon  the  glittering 
expanse  of  Minas  Basin.  The  beams  tinged 
brightly  the  cordage  and  half-furled  sails  of  two 
ships  that  rode  at  anchor  in  the  Basin,  near  the 
shore.  With  a  pitilessly  revealing  whiteness  the 
rays  descended  on  the  mournful  encampment  at 
the  creek's  mouth,  where  a  throng  of  Acadian 
peasants  were  getting  ready  to  embark  for  exile. 
"  Late  grew  the  year,  and  stormy  was  the  sea." 
253 


254  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

Already  had  five  ships  sailed  away  with  their 
sorrowful  freight,  disappearing  around  the  tower- 
ing front  of  Blomidon,  from  the  straining  eyes  of 
friends  and  kinsfolk  left  behind.  Another  ship 
would  sail  out  with  the  next  ebb,  and  all  was  sad 
confusion  and  unwilling  haste  till  the  embarkation 
should  be  accomplished.  The  ship's  boats  were 
loaded  down  with  rude  household  stuff,  and  boxes 
full  of  homespun  linens  and  woollens. 

Children  were  crying  with  the  cold,  and  a  few 
women  were  weeping  silently;  but  the  partings 
which  had  succeeded  each  other  at  intervals 
throughout  the  last  few  weeks  had  dulled  the 
edge  of  anguish,  and  most  of  the  Acadians  wore 
an  air  of  heavy  resignation.  The  New  England 
soldiers  on  guard  gave  what  help  they  could,  but 
sullenly ;  for  they  were  weary  of  the  misery  that 
they  had  so  long  been  forced  to  watch. 

The  people  were  huddled  on  a  little  patch  of 
marsh  within  a  curve  of  the  dike.  Beyond  the 
dike  there  spread  a  stretch  of  reddish -brown  salt- 
flats,  covered  with  water  only  at  the  highest 
spring  tides,  and  now  meagrely  sprinkled  with 
sharp-edged  blades  and  tufts  of  the  grey  salt- 
grasses.     The  flats  were  soft  between  the  bunches 


The  Eye  of  GluskAp  255 

of  the  grass,  and  a  broad  track  was  trampled  into 
mire  by  the  passing  down  of  many  feet  from  the 
dike's  edge  to  the  boats. 

In  a  work  like  this  there  are  always  a  thousand 
unlooked-for  delays,  and  before  half  the  embark- 
ation was  effected  the  tide  had  reached  the  full, 
and  paused  and  turned  to  ebb.  As  the  strip  of 
shining  red  mud  began  to  widen  between  the 
grasses  and  the  water's  edge,  the  bustle  and  con- 
fusion increased.  Sometimes  a  woman  who  had 
already  stepped  into  the  boat,  thinking  that  her 
people  had  preceded  her,  would  spring  over  the 
side  into  the  shallow  water,  and  rush,  sobbing 
with  anxious  fear,  back  to  the  encampment. 
Sometimes  a  child  would  lose  sight  of  its  father 
or  mother  in  the  press,  and  lift  its  shrill  voice  in 
a  wail  of  desolation  which  found  piteous  echo  in 
every  Acadian  heart. 

Lower  and  lower  fell  the  tide.  The  current 
was  now  thick  and  red  with  the  mud  which  it  was 
dragging  from  the  flats  to  redeposit  it  on  some 
crescent  shoal  at  the  mouth  of  the  Canard  or  Pizi- 
quid.  Over  the  dike  and  down  toward  the 
waiting  boats  came  an  old  man,  bent  with  years, 
supported  by  his  son  and  his  son's  wife,  a  middle- 


256  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

aged  couple.  The  decrepit  figure  in  its  quaint 
Acadian  garb  was  one  to  be  remembered.  Old 
Remi  Corveau  was  a  man  of  means  among  the 
Acadian  peasants.  His  feet  were  incased  in  high- 
top  moccasins  of  vividly  embroidered  moose-hide, 
and  his  legs  in  gaiters,  or  mitasses,  of  dark  blue 
woollen  homespun,  laced  with  strips  of  red  cloth. 
His  coat  was  a  long  and  heavy  garment  of  home- 
spun blanket,  dyed  to  a  yellowish-brown  with 
many  decoctions  of  a  plant  which  the  country- 
folk now  know  as  "  yaller-weed. "  A  cap  of 
coarse  sealskin  covered  his  head,  and  was  tied 
beneath  his  chin  with  a  woollen  scarf  of  dull  red. 
The  old  man  clutched  his  stick  in  his  mittened 
right  hand,  muttering  to  himself,  and  seemed  but 
half  aware  of  what  was  going  on.  When  he  came 
to  the  edge  of  the  wet  red  clay,  however,  he 
straightened  himself  and  looked  about  him.  He 
gazed  at  the  boats  and  at  the  anchored  ships  be- 
yond. A  light  of  sudden  intelligence  flashed  into 
his  feeble  eyes.  He  turned  half  round  and  looked 
back  upon  the  ruined  village,  while  his  son  and 
daughter  paused  respectfully. 

"  Hurry  along  there  now!"  exclaimed  one  of 
the  guards,  impatiently ;  and  the  Acadian  couple, 


The  Eye  of  Gluskdp  257 

understanding  the  tone  and  gesture,  pulled  at 
their  father's  arms  to  lead  him  into  the  boat. 
The  old  man's  eyes  flamed  wildly,  and  crying, 
"  J'ne  veux  pas  !  jne  veux  pas  /  "  he  broke  from 
them  and  struggled  back  toward  the  dike.  In- 
stantly his  son  overtook  him,  picked  him  up  in 
his  arms,  and  carried  him,  now  sobbing  feebly, 
down  to  the  boat,  where  he  laid  him  on  a  pile  of 
blankets.  As  the  laden  craft  moved  slowly  to- 
ward the  ship  the  old  man's  complainings  ceased. 
When  they  went  to  hoist  him  over  the  ship's 
side  they  discovered  that  he  was  dead. 

And  now  the  very  last  boat-load  was  well-nigh 
ready  to  start.  The  parish  priest,  who  was  stay- 
ing behind  to  sail  with  the  next  and  final  ship, 
was  bidding  his  sad  farewells.  A  young  woman 
drew  near  the  boat,  but  hardly  seemed  to  see  the 
priest's  kind  face  of  greeting,  so  anxiously  was 
she  fumbling  in  the  depths  of  a  small  bag  which 
she  carried  on  her  arm. 

The  bag  was  of  yellow  caribou-skin,  worked  by 
Indian  fingers  in  many-coloured  designs  of  dyed 
porcupine  quills. 

"  What  's  the  matter,  Marie,  my  child  ? "  in- 
quired   the    priest,   gently.      "  Hast   thou    lost 

»7 


258  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

something  more,  beside  thy  country  and  thy 
father's  house  ? " 

As  he  spoke  the  girl,  whose  name  was  Marie 
Beaugrand,  looked  up  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  and 
turned  to  him  affectionately. 

'•  I  have  found  it,  Father!  Via/  "  she  ex- 
claimed, holding  up  a  gigantic  amethyst  of  mar- 
vellous brilliancy.  "  Pierrot  gave  it  to  me  to 
keep  for  him,  you  know,"  she  added,  timidly, 
"  because  of  the  bad  luck  that  goes  with  it  when 
a  fftan  has  it !  " 

This  was  no  time  to  chide  the  girl  for  her  belief 
in  the  superstition  which  he  knew  was  connected 
with  the  wondrous  jewel.  The  priest  merely 
smiled  and  said:  "  Well,  well,  guard  it  carefully, 
my  little  one ;  and  may  the  Holy  Saints  enable  it 
to  mend  the  fortunes  of  thee  and  thy  Pierrot! 
Farewell ;  and  God  have  thee  ever  in  his  keeping, 
my  dear  child!  " 

Hardly  were  the  words  well  past  his  lips  when 
the  girl  gave  a  scream  of  dismay,  and  sprang  for- 
ward down  the  slippery  red  incline.  She  had 
dropped  the  amethyst,  by  some  incomprehensible 
mischance.  The  priest  beheld  the  purple  gleam 
as  it  flashed  from  b^tw^^n  the  girl's  fingers.     Her 


The  Eye  of  Glusklp  259 

high  cap  of  coarse  undyed  French  linen  fell  away 
from  her  black  locks  as  she  stooped  to  grope  pas- 
sionately in  the  ooze  which  had  swallowed  up  her 
treasure.  In  a  moment  the  comely  picture  of 
her  dark  blue  sleeves,  grey  petticoat,  and  trim 
red  stockings  was  sadly  disfigured  by  the  mud. 
The  girl's  despair  was  piercing ;  but  the  impatient 
guards,  who  knew  not  what  she  had  lost,  were  on 
the  point  of  taking  her  forcibly  to  the  boat,  when 
Colonel  Winslow,  who  stood  near  by,  checked 
them  peremptorily. 

Seeing  the  priest  gird  up  his  cassock  and  step 
forward  to  help  the  sobbing  girl  in  her  search, 
Colonel  Winslow  questioned  of  the  interpreter  as 
to  what  the  damsel  had  lost  to  cause  such  lament. 

**  A  toy,  a  mere  gaud,  your  Excellency,"  said 
the  shrewd  interpreter,  giving  Winslow  a  title 
which  he  would  not  have  employed  had  there 
been  any  one  present  of  higher  rank  than  the 
New  England  Colonel.  "  A  mere  gaud  of  a 
purple  stone ;  but  they  do  say  it  would  be  worth 
a  thousand  pounds  if  one  had  it  in  London. 
These  poor  folk  call  it  the  *  Witch  Stone,'  be- 
cause, they  say,  it  brings  bad  luck  to  the  man 
that  has  it.     The  more  learned  sort  smile  at  such 


26o  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

a  superstition,  and  call  the  stone  the  '  Star  '  by 
reason  of  its  surpassing  beauty, — Pierrot  Des- 
barats's  Star,  they  call  it  now,  since  that  youth 
picked  it  up  last  spring  on  Blomidon,  where  it 
had  once  before  been  found  and  strangely  lost 
again.  They  say  the  youth  gave  the  jewel  to  his 
betrothed  yonder  to  keep  for  him,  if  so  she  might 
ward  off  the  evil  fortune. 

The  New  England  colonel's  high-arched  eye- 
brows went  up  into  his  forehead  at  this  tale.  His 
round  and  ruddy  face  softened  with  sympathy 
for  the  poor  girl's  despair.  Winslow  was  con- 
vinced of  the  wisdom  and  justice  of  the  orders 
which  he  was  carrying  out  so  firmly ;  but  he 
wished  the  task  of  removing .  the  Acadians  had 
been  confided  to  any  other  hands  than  his. 
"  This  affair  is  more  grievous  to  me,"  he  wrote 
to  a  friend  about  this  time,  "  than  any  service  I 
was  ever  employed  in." 

Presently,  remarking  that  the  girl's  efforts  were 
fruitless,  and  the  tide  ebbing  rapidly,  Winslow 
ordered  several  of  his  soldiers  down  into  the  mud 
to  assist  her  search.  Veiling  their  reluctance  the 
men  obeyed,  and  the  ooze  was  explored  to  the 
very  water's   edge.      At   length,   realising  that 


The  Eye  of  Glusk^p  261 

the  departure  could  not  safely  be  longer  delayed, 
Winslow  ordered  the  quest  to  cease. 

As  the  girl  turned  back  to  the  boat  the  colonel 
caught  sight  of  the  despair  upon  her  face;  and 
reddening  in  the  folds  of  his  double  chin  he  slip- 
ped some  gold  pieces  into  the  muddy  hand  of  the 
priest. 

"  Be  good  enough,  sir,  to  give  the  damsel 
these,"  he  said,  stiffly.  "  Tell  her  I  will  have 
the  search  continued.  If  the  stone  is  found  she 
shall  have  it.  If  any  one  steals  it  I  will  hang 
him." 

As  the  priest,  leaning  over  the  boat-side, 
slipped  the  pieces  into  the  buckskin  bag,  Colonel 
Winslow  turned  away,  and  rather  roughly  ordered 
the  bespattered  soldiers  back  to  camp  to  clean 
themselves. 

After  the  priest  had  bid  farewell  to  the  still 
weeping  Marie  and  the  little  company  about  her, 
he  stood  waiting  to  receive  the  other  boat  which 
was  now  returning  from  the  ship.  He  saw  that 
something  unexpected  had  taken  place.  His  old 
parishioner  was  lying  back  in  the  stern,  covered 
with  a  blanket,  while  his  son  and  daughter 
lamented  over  him  with  the  unrestraint  of  child- 


262  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

reri.  On  the  following  day,  under  the  stern 
guard  of  the  Puritan  soldiers,  there  was  a  funeral 
in  the  little  cemetery  on  the  hillside,  and  the 
frozen  sods  were  heaped  upon  the  last  Acadian 
grave  of  Grand  Pr^  village.  Remi  Corveau  had 
chosen  death  rather  than  exile. 

And  what  was  the  jewel  whose  loss  had  caused 
such  grief  to  Marie  Beaugrand  ?  For  generations 
the  great  amethyst  had  sparkled  in  the  front  of 
Blomidon,  visible  at  intervals  in  certain  lights  and 
from  certain  standpoints,  and  again  unseen  for 
months  or  years  together.  The  Indians  called  it 
"  The  Eye  of  Gluskap,"  and  believed  that  to 
meddle  with  it  at  all  would  bring  down  swiftly 
the  vengeance  of  the  demigod.  Fixed  high  on 
the  steepest  face  of  the  cliff,  the  gem  had  long 
defied  the  search  of  the  most  daring  climbers.  It 
lurked,  probably,  under  some  overhanging  brow 
of  ancient  rock,  as  in  a  fit  and  inviolable  setting. 
At  length,  some  years  before  the  date  of  the 
events  I  have  been  describing,  a  French  sailor, 
fired  by  the  far-off  gleaming  of  the  gem,  had  suc- 
ceeded in  locating  the  spot  of  splendour.  Alone, 
with  a  coil  of  rope,  he  made  his  way  to  the  top 
of  the  ancient  cape.     A  few  days  later  his  bruised 


The  Eye  of  Gluskdp  263 

and  lifeless  body  was  found  among  the  rocks  be- 
low the  height,  and  taken  for  burial  to  the  little 
hillside  cemetery  by  the  Gaspereau.  The  fellow 
had  evidently  succeeded  in  finding  the  amethyst 
and  dislodging  it  from  its  matrix,  for  when  next 
the  elfin  light  gleamed  forth  it  was  seen  to  come 
from  a  point  far  down  the  cliff,  not  more  than  a 
hundred  feet  above  the  tide. 

Here  it  had  been  found  by  Pierrot  Desbarats, 
who,  laughing  to  scorn  the  superstitious  fears  of 
his  fellow-villagers,  had  brought  it  home  in 
triumph.  It  was  his  purpose  to  go,  at  some  con- 
venient season,  to  Halifax,  and  there  sell  the 
matchless  crystal,  of  whose  value  the  priest  had 
been  able  to  give  him  some  idea.  But  that  very 
spring  ill  luck  had  crossed  the  threshold  of  Pier- 
rot's cabin,  a  threshold  over  which  he  was  even 
then  preparing  to  lead  Marie  Beaugrand  as  his 
bride.  Two  of  his  oxen  died  mysteriously,  his 
best  cow  slipped  her  calf,  his  horse  got  a  strain  in 
the  loins,  and  his  apple  blossoms  were  nipped  by 
a  frost  which  passed  by  his  neighbour's  trees. 
Thereupon,  heeding  the  words  of  an  old  Micmac 
squaw,  who  had  said  that  the  spell  of  the  stone 
had  no  power  upon  a  woman,  Pierrot  had  placed 


264  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

his  treasure  in  Marie's  keeping  till  such  time  as 
it  could  be  transformed  into  English  gold — and 
from  that  day  the  shadow  of  ill-fate  had  seemed 
to  pass  from  him,  until  the  edict  of  banishment 
came  upon  Grand  Pr6  like  a  bolt  out  of  a  cloud- 
less heaven. 

From  the  ship,  on  whose  deck  he  awaited  her 
coming,  Pierrot  saw  the  apparently  causeless  ac- 
cident which  had  befallen  the  gem,  and  watched 
with  dry  lips  and  burning  eyes  the  vain  endeav- 
ours of  the  search.  His  hands  trembled  and  his 
heart  was  bitter  against  the  girl  for  a  few  mo- 
ments ;  but  as  the  boat  drew  near,  and  he  caught 
the  misery  and  fathomless  self-reproach  on  her 
averted  face,  his  anger  melted  away  in  pity.  He 
took  Marie's  hand  as  she  came  over  the  bulwarks, 
and  whispered  to  her:  **  Don't  cry  about  it,  '  Tite 
ChHie,  it  would  have  brought  us  bad  luck  any- 
where we  went.  Let  's- thank  the  Holy  Saints 
it  's  gone." 

As  the  ship  forged  slowly  across  the  Basin  and 
came  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  frown  of  Blomi- 
don,  Pierrot  pointed  out  first  the  perilous  ledge 
to  which  he  had  climbed  for  the  vanished  Star, 
and  then  the  tide-washed  hollow  under  the  cliff, 


The  Eye  of  Gluskap  265 

where  they  had  picked  up  the  body  of  the  luck- 
less sailor  from  St.  Malo.  "  Who  knows,  Marie," 
continued  Pierrot,  "  if  thou  hadst  not  lost  that 
evil  stone  thou  might  'st  one  day  have  seen  vie 
in  such  a  case  as  that  sailor  came  unto!  "  And 
then,  not  because  she  was  at  all  convinced  by 
such  reasoning,  but  because  her  lover's  voice  was 
kind,  the  girl  looked  up  into  Pierrot's  face  and 
made  shift  to  dry  her  tears. 

II 

Late  in  December  the  last  ship  sailed  away. 
Then  the  last  roof-tree  of  Grand  Pr6  village  went 
down  in  ashes;  and  Winslow's  lieutenant,  Os- 
good, with  a  sense  of  heavy  duty  done,  departed 
with  his  New  England  troops.  Winslow  himself 
had  gone  some  weeks  before. 

For  five  years  after  the  great  exile  the  Acadian 
lands  lay  deserted,  and  the  fogs  that  gathered 
morning  by  morning  on  the  dark  top  of  Blomidon 
looked  down  on  a  waste  where  came  and  went  no 
human  footstep.  All  the  while  the  fated  amethyst 
lay  hidden,  as  far  as  tradition  tells,  beneath  the 
red  ooze  and  changing  tides  of  the  creek. 

Then  settlers  began  to  come  in,  and  the  empty 


266  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

fields  were  taken  up  by  men  of  English  speech. 
Once  more  a  village  arose  on  Grand  Pr6,  and 
cider-presses  creaked  on  the  hills  of  Gaspereau. 
Of  the  Acadians,  to  keep  their  memory  green  on 
the  meadows  they  had  captured  from  the  sea, 
there  remained  the  interminable  lines  of  mighty 
dike,  the  old  apple  orchards  and  the  wind-breaks 
of  tall  poplars,  and  some  gaping  cellars  full  of 
ruins  wherein  the  newcomers  dug  persistently  for 
treasure. 

By  and  by  certain  of  the  settlers,  who  occupied 
the  higher  grounds  back  of  the  village,  began  to 
talk  of  a  star  which  they  had  seen,  gleaming  with 
a  strange  violet  radiance  from  a  patch  of  unre- 
claimed salt  marsh  by  the  m  outh  of  the  creek. 
In  early  evening  only  could  the  elfin  light  be  dis- 
cerned, and  then  it  was  visible  to  none  but  those 
who  stood  upon  the  heights.  Soon,  from  no  one 
knew  where,  came  tales  of  the  Eye  of  Glus- 
kap,  and  the  Witch's  Stone,  and  L'Etoile  de 
Pierrot  Desbarat,  and  the  death  of  the  sailor 
of  St.  Malo,  and  the  losing  of  the  gem  on  the  day 
the  ship  sailed  forth.  Of  the  value  of  the  amethyst 
the  most  fabulous  stories  went  abroad,  and  for  a 
season  the  good  wives  of  the  settlers  had  but  a 


The  Eye  of  Gluskap  267 

sorry  time  of  it,  cleansing  their  husbands'  gar- 
ments from  a  daily  defilement  of  mud. 

While  the  vain  search  was  going  on,  an  old 
Scotchman,  shrewder  than  his  fellows,  was  taking 
out  his  title-deeds  to  the  whole  expanse  of  salt- 
flats,  which  covered  perhaps  a  score  of  acres. 
Having  quietly  made  his  position  secure  at  Hali- 
fax, Dugald  Mclntyre  came  down  on  his  fellow- 
villagers  with  a  firm  celerity,  and  the  digging  and 
the  defiling  of  garments  came  suddenly  to  an  end 
by  Grand  Fr6  Creek.  Soon  a  line  of  new  dike 
encompassed  the  flats,  the  spring  tides  swept  no 
more  across  those  sharp  grasses  which  had  bent 
beneath  the  unreturning  feet  of  the  Acadians, 
and  the  prudent  Scot  found  himself  the  richer  by 
twenty  acres  of  exhaustlessly  fertile  meadow, 
worth  a  hundred  dollars  an  acre  any  day.  More- 
over, he  felt  that  /ie  had  the  amethyst.  Could  he 
not  see  it  almost  any  evening  toward  sundown 
by  merely  climbing  the  hillside  back  of  his  snug 
homestead  ?  How  divinely  it  gleamed,  with 
long,  pale,  steady  rays,  just  inside  the  lines  of 
circumvallation  which  he  had  so  cunningly  drawn 
about  it!  In  its  low  lurking-place  beside  the 
hubbub  of  the  recurring  ebb  and  flow,  it  seemed 


268  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

to  watch,  like  an  unwinking  eye,  for  the  coming 
of  curious  and  baleful  fates. 

But  it  never  fell  to  the  Scotchman's  fortune  to 
behold  his  treasure  close  at  hand.  To  the  hilltop 
he  had  to  go  whenever  he  would  gloat  upon  its 
beauty.  To  the  most  diligent  and  tireless  search- 
ing of  every  inch  of  the  marsh's  surface  it  refused 
to  yield  up  its  implacably  virginal  lustre.  Some- 
times, though  rarely,  it  was  visible  as  the  moon 
drew  near  her  setting,  and  then  it  would  glitter 
whitely  and  malignantly,  like  a  frosty  spear- 
point. 

At  last  the  settlers  began  to  whisper  that  the 
Star  was  not  in  the  marsh  at  all,  but  that  Dugald 
Mclntyre,  after  the  fashion  of  these  canny  folk, 
had  o'er-reached  himself,  and  run  the  lines  of  the 
dike  right  over  it.  That  it  could  continue  to 
shine  under  such  discouraging  circumstances,  the 
settlement  by  this  time  scorned  to  doubt.  To 
the  Eye  of  Gluskap  the  people  were  ready  to 
attribute  any  powers,  divine  or  devilish. 

Whether  the  degree  of  possession  to  which 
Dugald  Mclntyre  had  attained  could  be  con- 
sidered to  constitute  a  legal  ownership  of  the 
jewel  or  not,  is  a  question  for  lawyers,  not  for  the 


The  Eye  of  Glusk^p  269 

mere  teller  of  a  plain  tale,  the  mere  digger  among 
the  facts  of  a  perishing  history.  Suffice  it  to  say 
that  the  finger  of  ill-fortune  soon  designated 
Dugald  Mclntrye  as  the  man  whose  claim  to  the 
Eye  was  acknowledged  by  the  Fates. 

From  the  time  of  the  completion  of  the  new 
dike  dated  the  Scotchman's  troubles.  His  cattle 
one  year,  his  crops  another,  seemed  to  find  the 
seasons  set  against  them.  Dugald 's  prudence, 
watchfulness,  and  untiring  industry  minimised 
every  stroke;  nevertheless,  things  went  steadily 
to  the  worse. 

It  was  Destiny  versus  Dugald  Mclntyre,  and 
with  true  Scottish  determination  Dugald  braced 
himself  to  the  contest.  He  made  a  brave  fight ; 
but  wherever  there  was  a  doubtful  point  at  issue, 
the  Court  Invisible  ruled  inexorably  and  without 
a  scruple  against  the  possessor  of  the  Eye  of 
Gluskap.  When  he  was  harvesting  his  first  crop 
of  hay  off  the  new  dike — and  a  fine  crop  it  seemed 
likely  to  be — the  rains  set  in  with  a  persistence 
that  at  length  reduced  the  windrows  to  a  condi- 
tion of  flavourless  grey  straw.  Dugald  Mclntyre 
set  his  jaws  grimly  together,  took  good  hay  from 
another  meadow,  and  by  a  discreet  construction 


270  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

of  his  bundles  succeeded  in  selling  the  whole  lot 
at  a  good  price  to  his  most  gracious  Majesty's 
Government  at  Halifax.  This  bold  stroke  seemed 
to  daunt  the  Fates  for  a  time,  and  while  they 
were  recovering  from  their  confusion  affairs  went 
bravely  with  Dugald.  When  haying  season  came 
round  again  the  weather  kept  favourable,  and  the 
hay  was  all  harvested  in  perfect  shape.  Dugald 
was  much  too  prudent  to  boast ;  but  in  his  inner- 
most heart  he  indulged  a  smile  of  triumph.  That 
night  his  barns  and  outbuildings  were  burned  to 
the  ground,  and  two  fine  horses  with  them ;  and 
his  house  was  saved  hardly.  This  was  too  much 
even  for  him.  Refusing  to  play  longer  a  losing 
game,  he  sold  the  New  Marsh  at  some  sacri- 
fice to  a  settler  who  laughed  at  superstition.  This 
sceptical  philosopher,  however,  proved  open  to 
conviction.  A  twelvemonth  later  he  was  ready 
almost  to  give  the  land  away,  and  the  Eye  of 
Gluskip  with  it.  For  a  mere  song  the  rich  and 
smiling  tract,  carrying  a  heavy  crop  just  ready  for 
the  scythe,  was  purchased  by  a  young  New  Eng- 
lander  with  an  admirable  instinct  for  business. 
This  young  man  went  to  Halifax  and  mortgaged 
the  land  and  crop  to  their  full  value ;  and  with 


The  Eye  of  Gluskip  271 

the  cash  he  left  to  seek  his  fortune.  Thus  the 
Eye  of  Gluskap,  and  the  Marsh  with  it,  came 
into  the  possession  of  a  widow  of  great  wealth, 
on  whom  the  spell,  it  seemed,  was  of  none  effect. 
Her  heirs  were  in  England,  and  it  came  to  pass, 
in  the  course  of  a  generation,  that  Grand  Pr6  knew 
not  the  owners  of  the  fated  Marsh,  and  could  not 
tell  what  troubles,  if  any,  were  falling  upon  the 
possessors  of  the  Star.  Nevertheless  the  Star 
kept  up  its  gleaming,  a  steady  eye  of  violet  under 
the  sunsets,  a  ray  of  icy  pallor  when  the  large 
moon  neared  her  setting;  and  at  length  it  was 
discovered  that  the  enchanted  jewel  had  yet 
other  periods  of  manifestation.  Belated  way- 
farers, on  stormy  December  nights,  had  caught 
the  unearthly  eye-beam  when  no  other  light 
could  be  seen  in  earth  or  sky.  When  this  took 
place  the  tide  was  always  near  about  the  full,  and 
beating  hoarsely  all  along  the  outer  dikes.  Then 
would  be  heard,  between  the  pauses  of  the  wind, 
the  rattle  of  oars  at  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  and 
the  creaking  of  ship's  cordage,  and  anon  the 
sound  of  children  crying  with  the  cold.  If  voices 
came  from  the  spot  where  the  New  Marsh  lay 
unseen   and   the   Star   shone    coldly    watchful, 


272  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

they  were  for  the  most  part  in  a  tongue  which 
the  wayfarers  could  not  understand.  But  now 
and  again,  some  said,  there  were  orders  spoken 
in  EngHsh,  and  then  the  clank  of  arms  and  the 
tramp  of  marching  feet.  Of  course  these  things 
were  held  in  question  by  many  of  the  settlers, 
but  there  were  none  so  hardy  as  to  suffer  them- 
selves to  be  caught  upon  the  New  Marsh  after 
nightfall.  The  Eye  of  Gluskap  discerned  a 
supernatural  terror  in  many  a  heart  that  claimed 
renown  for  courage. 

Ill 

A  hundred  years  had  rolled  down  the  hillsides 
of  the  Gaspereau  and  out  across  the  Minas  tides 
into  the  fogs  and  hollows  of  the  past ;  and  still 
the  patch  of  diked  land  at  the  creek's  mouth  was 
lit  by  the  unsearchable  lustre  of  the  Eye  of 
Gluskap. 

As  for  the  various  distinguished  scientists  who 
undertook  to  unravel  the  mystery,  either  much 
study  had  made  them  blind,  or  the  lights  were 
unpropitious ;  for  not  one  of  them  ever  attained 
to  a  vision  of  the  violet  gleam.  They  went  away 
with  laughter  on  their  lips. 


The  Eye  of  Glusk^p  273 

One  spring  there  came  to  Grand  Pr6  a  young 
Englishman  named  Desbra,  a  long-hmbed,  ample- 
chested  youth,  with  whitish  hair  and  ruddy  skin, 
and  clear,  straightforward  blue  eyes.  Desbra  was 
resolved  to  learn  farming  in  a  new  country,  so  he 
bought  an  old  farm  on  the  uplands,  with  an  ex- 
hausted orchard,  and  was  for  a  time  surprised  at 
the  infertility  of  the  soil. 

Gradually  he  made  himself  master  of  the  situa- 
tion, and  of  some  more  desirable  acres,  and  also, 
incidentally  it  seemed,  of  the  affections  of  a 
maiden  who  lived  not  far  from  Grand  Pr6. 

Dugald  Mclntyre  had  prospered  again  when 
the  Eye  of  Gluskap  no  longer  looked  malig- 
nantly on  his  fortunes;  and  to  his  descendants 
he  had  left  one  of  the  finest  properties  within 
view  of  Blomidon.  It  was  Jessie  Mclntyre,  his 
great-grandchild,  who  had  captured  the  heart  of 
young  Desbra. 

One  rosy  September  afternoon,  as  Jessie  stood 
in  the  porch  where  the  wild  grapes  clustered  half- 
ripe,  the  young  Englishman  came  swinging  his 
long  legs  up  the  slope,  sprang  over  the  fence  be- 
tween the  apple  trees,   and  caught  the  maiden 

gleefully  in  his  arms. 
18 


274  By  t^^  Marshes  of  Minas 

"  Congratulate  me,  Mistress  Mclntyre,"  he 
cried,  as  the  girl  pushed  him  away  in  mock  dis- 
approval. "  I  have  just  made  a  bargain, — a 
famous  bargain, — a  thing  I  never  did  before  in 
my  life." 

"  Good  boy,"  replied  Jessie,  standing  tip-toe 
to  pat  the  pale  brush  of  her  lover's  well-cropped 
hair.  "  Good  boy,  we  '11  make  a  Blue  Nose  of 
you  yet !  And  what  is  this  famous  bargain,  may 
I  ask?" 

"  Why,  I  *ve  just  bought  what  so  many  of  your 
fellow-countrymen  call  the  '  Noo  Ma'sh,*  "  an- 
swered Desbra.  "  I  have  got  it  for  twenty  dollars 
an  acre,  and  it  's  worth  a  hundred  any  day! 
I  've  got  the  deed,  and  the  thing  's  an  accom- 
plished fact." 

Jessie  looked  grave,  and  removed  herself  from 
her  lover's  embrace  in  order  to  lend  impressive- 
ness  to  her  words.  "Oh,  Jack,  Jack!"  she 
said,  "  you  don't  know  what  you  have  done! 
You  have  become  a  man  of  Destiny,  which  I 
don't  believe  you  want  to  be  at  all.  You  have 
bought  the  Star.  You  have  made  yourself  the 
master  of  the  Witch's  Stone.  You  have  sum- 
moned the  Eye  of  Gluskap  to  keep  watch  upon 


The  Eye  of  Gluskdp  275 

you  critically.  In  fact,  it  would  take  a  long  time 
to  tell  you  all  you  have  done.  But  one  thing 
more  you  must  do,' — you  must  get  rid  of  that 
famous  bargain  of  yours  without  delay.  I  'm 
not  superstitious.  Jack,  but  truly  in  this  case  I 
am  disturbed.  Bad  luck,  horrid  bad  luck,  has 
always  befallen  any  man  owning  that  piece  of 
Marsh,  for  the  Marsh  contains  the  Witch's  Stone, 
and  a  spell  is  on  the  man  that  possesses  that  fatal 
jewel." 

Jack  Desbra  laughed  and  recaptured  the 
maiden.  "  All  right,"  said  he,  "if  a  man 
must  n't  possess  it,  I  shall  give  it  away  to  a 
woman !     How  will  that  suit  you,  my  lady  ?  " 

Jessie  looked  dubious,  but  said  anything  would 
be  better  than  for  him  to  keep  it  himself.  Where- 
upon the  young  man  continued:  "  Put  on  your 
hat,  then,  and  come  down  into  the  village  with 
me,  and  I  will  forthwith  transfer  the  property, 
with  all  appurtenances  thereof,  to  Jessie  Mc- 
Intyre,  spinster,  of  the  parish  of  Grand  Pr6, 
County  of  Kings,  Province  of  Nova  Scotia,  in 
her  Majesty's  Dominion  of  Canada;  and  the  Eye 
of  Gluskip  will  find  something  better  to  keep 
watch  upon  than  me ! ' ' 


276  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

To  this  proposal  Miss  Jessie,  being  in  the  main 
a  very  level-headed  young  lady,  in  spite  of  her 
little  superstitions,  assented  without  demur,  and 
the  two  proceeded  to  the  village. 

On  the  way  thither  and  back,  Desbra  learned 
all  the  history  of  the  "  Star  on  the  Marsh,"  as  I 
have  endeavoured  to  unfold  it  in  the  preceding 
pages.  As  it  happened,  however,  there  was  no 
mention  of  Pierrot  Desbarat's  surname  in  Jessie's 
account.  Marie  Beaugrand  she  spoke  of,  but 
Marie's  fianc^,  the  last  finder  of  the  amethyst, 
she  simply  called  Pierrot. 

**  But  have  you  yourself  ever  seen  the  sinister 
glory  you  describe  ? "  asked  Desbra,  as  they 
neared  the  Mclntyre  home.  Jessie's  story  had 
interested  him  keenly.  He  was  charmed  with 
the  tale  as  constituting  at  least  a  notable  bit  of 
folk-lore. 

"  Of  course  I  've  seen  it,"  replied  Jessie,  almost 
petulantly.  "  I  dare  say  I  can  show  it  to  you 
now.  Let  us  go  to  the  top  of  the  hill  yonder, 
where  that  old  poplar  stands  up  all  by  itself.  That 
tree  is  a  relic  of  the  Acadians,  and  the  Eye 
watches  it,  I  fancy,  when  it  has  nothing  better  to 
look  at!" 


The  Eye  of  Gluskip  277 

When  the  lovers  reached  the  hilltop  and 
paused  beside  the  ancient  and  decaying  poplar, 
the  sun  had  just  gone  down  behind  North  Mount- 
ain, and  a  sombre  splendour  flooded  the  giant 
brow  of  Blomidon.  The  girl  pointed  toward  the 
mouth  of  the  creek.  Desbra  could  not  restrain  a 
cry  of  astonishment.  From  just  inside  the  dike, 
in  a  deep  belt  of  olive  shadow,  came  a  pale,  fine 
violet  ray,  unwavering  and  inexplicable.  Pres- 
ently he  remarked : 

"  That  is  a  fine  gem  of  yours,  my  dear;  and  if 
/  owned  such  a  treasure  I  should  n't  leave  it  lying 
around  in  that  careless  fashion.  Who  knows  what 
might  happen  to  it,  away  down  there  on  the  New 
Marsh  ?  What  if  a  gull,  now,  should  come  along 
and  swallow  it,  to  help  him  grind  his  fish  bones!  " 

"  Don't  be  silly,  Jack!  "  said  the  girl,  her  eyes 
dilating  as  she  watched  the  mystic  beam.  "  You 
know  you  don't  half  like  the  look  of  it  yourself. 
It  makes  you  feel  uncanny,  and  you  're  just  talk- 
ing nonsense  to  make  believe  you  don't  think 
there  is  anything  queer  about  it!  " 

"  Quite  the  contrary,  I  assure  you,  O  Mistress 
of  the  Witch  Stone,  O  Cynosure  of  the  Eye  of 
Gluskap!"   answered  Desbra.     "I  am,  indeed. 


278  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

so  much  impressed  that  I  was  taking  pains  to 
remind  the  Powers  of  the  transfer  I  have  just 
effected !  I  desire  to  hide  me  from  the  Eye  of 
Gluskap  by  taking  refuge  behind  a  certain  little 
spinster's  petticoats!  " 

There  was  a  long  silence,  while  Desbra  kept 
gazing  on  the  mystic  gleam  as  if  fascinated.  At 
last  Jessie  made  a  move  as  if  she  thought  it  time 
to  return  to  the  house,  whereupon  the  young 
man,  waking  out  of  his  fit  of  abstraction,  said 
slowly : 

Do  you  know,  it  seems  to  me  now  as  if  you 
had  been  telling  me  an  old  story.  I  feel  as  if  you 
had  merely  recalled  to  my  memory  incidents 
which  I  had  long  forgotten.  I  remember  it  all 
now,  with  much  that  I  think  you  did  not  tell  me. 
Looking  at  that  strange  point  of  light  I  have  seen 
— did  you  tell  me  anything  of  an  old  man  dying 
in  a  boat  and  being  brought  to  shore  just  as 
Marie  was  leaving  for  the  ship  ?  That  is  a  scene 
that  stands  out  upon  my  memory  sharply  now. 
And  did  you  say  anything  about  an  old  priest  ? 
I  saw  him  leaning  over  the  side  of  the  boat  and 
slipping  something  into  Marie's  sack." 

"  No,"  said  Jessie,  "  I  did  n't  tell  you  any  of 


The  Eye  of  Glusk^p  279 

that,  though  it  all  happened  as  you  say.  Let  us 
go  home,  Jack,  it  frightens  me  terribly.  Oh,  I 
wish  you  had  n't  bought  that  Marsh!  "  and  she 
clung  trembling  to  the  young  man's  arm. 

"  But  what  can  it  mean  ?  "  persisted  Desbra, 
as  they  descended  the  hill.  "  Why  should  I 
think  that  I  was  there  when  it  all  happened, — 
that  it  all  happened  to  me,  in  fact  ?  My  grand- 
mother was  of  French  blood, — perhaps  Acadian 
blood,  for  my  grandfather  married  her  in  the 
West  Indies.  After  the  exile  the  Acadians,  you 
say,  were  scattered  all  over  the  face  of  the  New 
World!  Can  there  be  in  my  veins  any  of  the 
blood  of  that  unhappy  people  ? ' ' 

Jessie  stopped  short  and  looked  up  at  her 
lover's  face.  "  Why,  your  name,"  she  cried, 
**  sounds  as  if  it  might  have  been  French  once!  " 

"  My  grandfather's  name  was  Manners  Sut- 
ton," responded  Desbra,  musing.  My  father  had 
to  take  my  grandfather's  name  to  inherit  some 
property  in  Martinique.  I,  of  course,  pronounce 
my  name  in  English  fashion,  but  it  is  spelled  just 
as  my  father's  was — D-e-s-b-r-a!  " 

As  the  young  Englishman  gave  his  name  its 
French  accent  and  pronunciation,  Jessie  uttered 


28o  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

a  little  cry  of  intelligence  and  wonder.  She 
looked  at  her  lover  a  moment  in  silence,  and  then 
said  very  slowly,  very  deliberately,  pausing  for 
every  word  to  tell. 

"  The  name  of  Marie's  lover,  the  young  man 
who  found  the  Witch's  Stone,  was  Pierrot  Des- 
barat!  D-e-s-b-a-r-a-t.  You  are  none  other, 
Jack,  than  the  great-grandson  of  Marie  and  Pier- 
rot!" 

"  Truly,"  said  Desbra,  "  when  I  come  to  think 
of  it,  the  name  was  spelled  that  way  once  upon  a 
time!" 

"  Well,  you  shall  not  be  a  man  of  Destiny, 
Jack!  "  exclaimed  the  girl.  "  I  won't  have  it! 
But  as  for  me,  that  is  another  matter.  We  shall 
see  if  the  "Eye  of  Gluskap  has  any  malign  in- 
fluence over  me  !  " 

IV 

Early  in  December,  having  just  returned  to 
Grand  Pr6  from  their  wedding  journey,  Jack 
Desbra  and  his  wife  were  standing  one  evening  in 
a  window  that  looked  out  across  the  marshes  and 
the  Basin.  It  was  a  wild  night.  A  terrific  wind 
had  come  up  with  the  tide,  and  the  waves  raged 


The  Eye  of  Gluskap  281 

in  thunderously  all  along  the  Minas  Dikes. 
There  was  nothing  visible  without,  so  thick  was 
the  loud  darkness  of  the  storm ;  but  the  young 
Englishman  had  suggested  that  they  should  look 
to  see  if  the  Star  would  shine  a  welcome  to  their 
home-coming. 

"It  is  my  Star,  remember,  Jack,"  said  his 
wife,  **  and  it  will  be  guilty  of  no  such  irregular- 
ity as  showing  itself  on  a  night  like  this." 

"  You  forget,  my  lady,"  was  the  reply,  "  that 
the  Star  is  now  mine.  The  Marsh  has  the  Star, 
and  my  lady  has  the  Marsh ;  but  I  have  my  lady, 
and  so  possess  all !  ' ' 

"  Oh,  Jack,"  cried  the  girl,  with  a  shudder, 
"  there  it  is!  I  am  sure  something  will  happen. 
Let  us  sell  the  Marsh  to-morrow,  dear ;  for  now 
that  I  belong  to  you  I  can  no  longer  protect  you 
from  the  spell.     I  had  forgotten  that!  " 

"  Very  well,"  said  Desbra,  lightly,  "  if  you  say 
so,  we  '11  sell  to-morrow." 

As  the  two  stood  locked  in  each  other's  arms, 
and  straining  their  eyes  into  the  blackness,  the 
violet  ray  gathered  intensity,  and  almost  seemed 
to  reveal,  by  fits,  the  raving  turmoil  of  the  rapidly 
mounting  tide. 


282  By  the  Marshes  of  MInas 

In  a  few  moments  Desbra  became  absorbed,  as 
it  were,  in  a  sort  of  waking  dream.  His  frank, 
merry,  almost  boyish  countenance  took  on  a  new 
expression,  and  his  eyes  assumed  the  strange, 
far-focussed  steadfastness  of  the  seer's.  His  wife 
watched,  with  a  growing  awe  which  she  could  not 
shake  off,  the  change  in  her  husband's  demean- 
our; and  the  firelight  in  the  cheerful  room  died 
away  unnoticed. 

At  last  the  girl  could  bear  no  longer  the  ghostly 
silence,  and  that  strange  look  in  her  husband's 
face.  "What  do  you  see.  Jack?"  she  cried. 
"  What  do  you  see  ?    Oh,  how  terribly  it  shines !" 

When  Desbra  replied,  she  hardly  recognised 
his  voice. 

"  I  see  many  ships,"  said  he,  slowly,  and  as  if 
he  heard  not  the  sound  of  his  own  words.  '  *  They 
sail  in  past  Blomidon.  They  steer  for  the  mouths 
of  the  Canard  and  Gaspereau.  Some  are  already 
close  at  hand.  The  strange  light  of  the  Eye  of 
Glusk^p  is  on  the  sails  of  all.  From  somewhere 
I  hear  voices  singing,  *  Nos  bonnes  gens  revien- 
dront.'  The  sound  of  it  comes  beating  on  the 
wind.     Hark!  how  it  swells  over  the  Marshes!  " 

"  I  do  not  hear  anything,  Jack,  dear,  except 


The  Eye  of  Gluskfip  28 


o 


these  terrible  gusts  that  cry  past  the  corners  of 
the  house,"  said  Jessie,  tremulously. 

"  How  light  it  grows  upon  the  New  Marsh 
now!  "  continued  her  husband,  in  the  same  still 
voice.  "  The  Eye  shines  everywhere.  I  hear 
no  more  the  children  crying  with  the  cold ;  but 
on  the  Marsh  I  see  an  old  man  standing.  He  is 
waiting  for  the  ships.  He  waves  his  stick  exult- 
ingly  to  welcome  them.  I  know  him, — it  is  old 
Remi  Corveau.  They  told  me  he  died  and  was 
buried  when  the  ships  sailed  away  from  Grand 
Pr6. 

"  There  comes  a  great  ship  heading  for  Long 
Island  shoal.  Cannot  the  captain  see  how  the 
waves  break  furiously  before  him  ?  No  ship  will 
live  a  moment  that  strikes  the  shoal  to-night. 
She  strikes!  God  have — No!  she  sails  straight 
through  the  breakers! — and  not  three  feet  of 
water  on  the  shoal ! 

"  Two  ships  have  reached  the  creek,"  con- 
tinued Desbra,  speaking  more  rapidly.  "  How 
the  violet  light  shines  through  their  sails !  How 
crowded  the  decks  are !  All  the  faces  are  turned 
toward  shore,  with  laughter  and  with  streaming 
eyes,  and  hands   outstretched   to   the   fields  of 


284  By  the  Marshes  of  Minas 

Grand  Pre.  I  know  the  faces.  There  is  Evan- 
gehne,  and  there  is  Jacques  Le  May, — but  why 
don't  they  drop  anchor  ?  They  will  ground  if 
they  come  any  nearer  shore !  And  in  this  sea — 
Merciful  Heaven,  they  are  on  the  dikes !  They 
strike — and  the  dike  goes  down  before  them ! 
The  great  white  waves  throng  in  behind  them — 
the  Marsh  is  buried — and  the  light  goes  out!  " 

The  young  man  started  back  and  put  his  hand 
to  his  eyes,  as  if  awaking  from  a  dream.  He 
caught  the  sound  of  his  wife's  sobbing,  and, 
throwing  both  arms  about  her,  he  stooped  to  kiss 
her  hair,  which  gleamed  in  the  dark. 

"  What  's  the  matter,  darling  ?  "  he  whispered, 
anxiously.     "And  what  has  become  of  our  fire  ?  " 

' '  Oh,  Jack,  you  have  frightened  me  so !  "  re- 
plied the  girl.  "  You  have  been  dreaming  or  in 
a  trance,  and  seeing  dreadful  things  that  I  could 
not  see  at  all !  I  could  see  nothing  but  that  hate- 
ful Eye,  which  has  been  shining  as  if  all  the 
fires  of  hell  were  in  it.  Come  away !  we  will  sell 
the  Marsh  to-morrow  at  any  price!  " 

"  But,  dear,"  said  Desbra,  "  the  Star  has  gone 
out !  There  is  not  a  sign  of  it  to  be  seen.  All 
outside  is  black  as  Egypt.     Look!  " 


The  Eye  of  Gluskap  285 

Reluctantly  the  girl  turned  toward  the  window. 
She  gave  a  little  cry.  "  That  's  just  what  you 
said  a  minute  ago  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You 
said  '  the  light  goes  out,'  and  then  you  came  to 
yourself.     I  believe  the  dike  is  washed  away  !  ' ' 

"  Well,"  said  Desbra,  "  we  '11  see  to-morrow." 
And  they  drew  the  curtains  and  lit  the  lamps 
and  stirred  the  fire  to  a  blaze ;  and  between  the 
shriekings  of  the  wind  they  heard  the  roar  of  the 
breakers,  trampling  the  low  and  naked  coast. 

When  morning  broke  over  the  Gaspereau  hills, 
and  men  looked  out  of  their  windows,  every 
vestige  of  the  dike  that  had  inclosed  the  New 
Marsh  was  gone.  The  site  of  the  Marsh  was 
much  eaten  away,  and  a  bank  of  sand  was  piled 
at  the  other  side  of  the  creek,  near  the  mouth, 
in  such  a  way  as  to  divert  the  channel  many  feet 
from  its  old  course. 

Thereafter  the  tides  foamed  in  and  out  with 
daily  and  nightly  clamour  across  the  spot  where 
the  Star  on  the  Marsh  had  gleamed;  and  men 
made  no  new  effort  to  reclaim  the  ruined  acres. 

THE    END 


The  Forge  in  the  Forest. 

Being  the  Narrative  of  the  Acadian  Ranger,  Jean  de  Mer, 
Sfigneur  de  Briart ;  and  how  he  crossed  the  Black 
Abb6  ;  and  of  his  Adventures  in  a  Strange  Fellowship. 

By  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts, 

Author  of  "A  Sister  to  Evangeline,"  "Earth's  Enigmas,"  "By  the 
Marshes  of  Minas,"  "  The  Book  of  the  Native,"  "  New  York  Noc- 
turnes," "A  History  of  Canada,"  etc. 

The  scene  of  this  masterful  and  exquisite  romance  is  the  region 
about  Grand  Pr^,  the  idyllic  land  of  Evangeline.  The  time  is 
1746-47,  about  eight  years  before  the  expulsion  of  the  Acadians, 
and  a  foreshadowing  of  that  great  tragedy  falls  at  times  across  the 
page.  The  story  is  one  of  purest  love,  of  stirring  adventure,  and 
heroic  action.  The  hero,  de  Briart,  is  a  Seigneur  of  Acadia,  who  has 
refused  to  accept  the  English  rule,  and  devotes  his  good  sword  to 
the  service  of  the  Fleur  de  Lis.  The  heroine  is  a  New  England 
woman,  Mistress  Mizpah  Hanford,  sojourning  under  the  English 
guns  at  Annapolis.  The  evil  genius  of  the  story  is  the  Black  Abb^, 
whose  intrigues  and  untiring  enmity  are  the  web  and  woof  of  the 
plot.  And  there  is  a  fantastic  madman,  called  Grdl,  whose  mad- 
ness is,  like  Hamlet's,  somewhat  in  question,  and  whose  hand  often 
mars  the  Black  Abbd's  plots.  The  historical  basis  of  the  exciting 
events  which  crowd  the  story  is  sound,  and  certain  of  the  charac- 
ters are  summoned  from  the  pages  of  history  to  enact  here  their 
swift  and  moving  parts. 

"  It  is  a  story  to  shake  the  torpor  from  the  brain,  and  to  keep  the  soul 
alive.  It  is  charged  with  romance  and  works  like  wine.  Professor  Roberts 
has  written  a  story  that  will  repeat  itself  in  our  dreams  for  many  a  long  day." 
James  MacArthur,  in  The  Bookman. 

"  There  is  poetry  in  every  movement  of  the  story,  and  a  perfect  harmony 
that  arises  only  from  a  pure  touch.  .  .  .  One  feels  at  times  as  if  he  were 
reading  secrets  almost  too  sacred  for  public  eyes,  so  perfectly  is  the  purity 
of  real  romance  preserved." — Boston  Herald. 

"  It  is  sheer  delight  to  mark  the  dividing  distance  between  the  absolutely 
unreal  tone  of  the  ordinary  romantic  novel  of  the  day  and  such  a  genuinely 
convincing  story  as  this.  .  .  .  Mr.  Roberts's  novels  may  stand  on  the  same 
shelf  with  '  Waverley,'  '  Romola,'  '  Hypatia,'  and  '  The  Cloister  and  The 
Hearth.'  " — Boston  Transcript. 

With  seven  full-page  illustrations  by  Henry  Sandham,  R.C.A. 
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A  Sister  to  Evangeline. 

Being  the  Story  of  Yvonne  de  Lamourie,  and  how  She 
went  into  Exile  with  the  Villagers  of  Grand  Pre. 

By  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts, 

Author  of  "The  Forge  in  the  Forest,"  "Earth's  Enigmas,"  "By  the 
Marshes  of  Minas,"  "  The  Book  of  the  Native,"  "  New  York  Noc- 
turnes," "A  History  of  Canada,"  etc. 

The  scene  of  this  romance,  like  that  of  its  predecessor,  "The 
Forge  in  the  Forest,"  is  laid  in  the  region  about  Grand  Pr^,  which 
Longfellow  has  made  immortal.  The  date  is  1755,  and  the  action 
centres  in  that  terrible  banishment  which  tore  the  old  Acadians 
from  their  homes  in  the  garden  of  Nova  Scotia  and  scattered  them 
in  exile.  The  story  is  told  by  Paul  Grande,  a  young  soldier-poet 
of  seigneurial  blood,  a  nephew  of  that  Sieur  de  Briart  who  is  the 
central  figure  in  "The  Forge  in  the  Forest."  The  heroine  is  a 
bewitching  and  wilful  demoiselle,  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  of 
the  Court  of  France  who  has  fled  to  Acadia  on  account  of  misfor- 
tunes at  Versailles.  The  story  is  not  a  sequel  to  "The  Forge  in  the 
Forest,"  each  book  being  complete  in  itself;  but  it  further  unfolds 
the  moving  drama  of  Acadian  history,  and  some  of  the  chief  char- 
acters in  the  former  novel  appear  in  this.  The  Black  Abbe  is  still 
the  evil  genius  of  Acadia ;  and  the  fantastic  madman,  Grill,  still 
lives  to  thwart  him. 

To  the  swift  action,  fresh  atmosphere,  and  wholesome  purity  of 
"The  Forge  in  the  Forest,"  this  novel  adds  even  a  deeper  passion, 
a  stronger  human  interest,  a  more  searching  analysis  of  motive. 

"  A  sweet-breathed  romance,  unfalterins  in  its  movement,  healthful  yet 
tender  in  its  sentiment,  and  full  of  red-blooded  life." — Chicago  Tribuue. 

"  Why  should  not  a  poet  make  the  best  possible  novelist  ?  Pledged  to 
high  idealism,  he  has  also  learned  through  long  apprenticeship  the  delicate 
differences  in  the  values  of  words  and  the  placing  of  phrases.  This  book  has 
all  the  merits  one  might  expect  in  a  poet's  novel,  and  many  more.  Indeed,  it 
would  not  have  done  for  any  one  less  a  poet  than  Mr.  Roberts  to  attempt  this 
story  in  prose.  Of  Evangeline's  kin  the  fascinating  heroine  may  be,  but  she 
eclipses  her  sister  in  every  quality  save  constanc}'." — The  Critic. 

"  Mr.  Roberts,  the  second  American  poet  to  treat  the  expulsion  of  the 
Acadians,  has  a  knowledge  which  Longfellow  did  not  possess, — an  accurate 
personal  acquaintance  with  the  landscapes,  sandy  beaches  and  scanty  forests, 
and  most  of  all.  with  the  people  of  Acadia.  .  .  .  His  prose  is  fresh,  fluent, 
and  felicitous,  with  a  music  of  its  own,  and  with  more  poetry  in  it  than  in 
the  hexameters  of  Longfellow." — The  Mail  and  Express. 

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Earth's  Enigmas. 

By  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts. 

This  volume  is  composed  of  those  earlier  tales  whose  lofty  note 
and  pure  style  first  discovered  Professor  Roberts  as  a  fiction  writer 
of  high  degree.  They  deal,  chiefly,  with  those  elemental  prob- 
lems of  life  which  occur  most  clearly  to  primitive  folk, — the  mys- 
tery of  suffering,  the  inescapability  of  death,  the  law  that  the  good 
of  one  is  another's  bane,  the  menace  of  the  unknown, — and  these 
are  treated  with  sincerity  and  the  freshness  of  first-hand  knowledge. 
Bound  in  cloth,  deckle-edge  paper,  gilt  top.    zgS pp.     Price,  $1.25. 

A  History  of  Canada. 

By  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts. 

Perhaps  no  other  man  living  is  better  equipped  to  write  an  ideal 
history  of  Canada  than  Professor  Roberts,  who  combines  a  pro- 
found scholarship,  an  accurate  and  judicial  mind,  an  intense  love 
for  the  land  of  his  birth,  and  a  literary  style  unexcelled  in  grace. 
This  is  a  book  of  peculiar  interest  to  Americans  because  of  its  inde- 
pendent yet  never  offensive  treatment  of  all  the  differences  be- 
tween Canada  and  the  United  States  from  the  battles  of  the  two 
old  wars  to  the  debated  problems  of  the  present.  For  Canadians 
it  affords  the  most  compact,  able,  and  authoritative  history  of  their 
country  yet  published,  equally  suited  for  a  university  text  and  for 
the  citizen's  library. 
Bound  in  cloth,  heavy  paper,  gilt  top.    504  pp.    Price,  $2.00  net. 

Volumes  of  Poems. 

By  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts. 

New  York  Nocturnes  The  Book  of  the  Native 

In  Divers  Tones  Songs  of  the  Common  Day 

These  volumes  include  Professor  Roberts's  poems  from  the  time 
of  his  first  recognition  as  a  master  poet.  The  wondrous  apprecia- 
tion of  nature,  the  sensibility  to  the  poetry  of  men  in  crowds,  the 
virile,  exalted  passion,  the  playfulness,  the  human  perspective, 
the  craft  and  the  music  of  his  later  volumes,  which  determine  his 
rank,  are  also  seen  in  potent  promise  in  the  earlier  works. 
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Other  Publications  of  Silver,  Burdett 
and  Company. 

By  the  Marshes  of  Minas. 

By  Prof.  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts,  author  of  "The  Forge  in  the 

Forest,"  "A  Sister  to  Evangeline,"  etc.    Illustrated.    296  pp.   $1.25 

A  volume  of  connected  romances  of  the  old  Acadian  country.     Professor  Roberts 

is  now  the  recognized  celebrant  of  that  picturesque  and  pathetic  period  when  Nova 

Scotia  passed  from  the  French  to  the  English  regime. 

A  Circle  in  the  Sand.    A  Novel. 

By  Kate  Jordan  (Mrs.  F.  M.  Vermilye).     304  pp.  $1.50 

A  story  of  New  York,  with  sketches  of  life  in  the  office  of  a  great  newspaper  and 
a  strike  in  the  coal  mines  of  Pennsylvania.  The  story  abounds  in  touches  of  delicate 
humor  and  pathos. 

Music  and  the  Comrade  Arts. 

By  Hugh  A.  Clarke,  Mus.  Doc,  Professor  of  Music  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Pennsylvania.      128  pp.     Gilt,  uncut  edges       .     75  cents 

Shows,  in  concise  and  pleasing  style,  how  the  Arts  depend  upon  each  other,  how 
they  relate  with  Science,  and  yet  are  subject  to  aesthetic  laws,  and  how  Art's  unifying 
principle  is  Form. 

American  Writers  of  To-day. 

By  Henry  C.  Vedder.     340  pp $1.50 

Critical  and  sympathetic  analyses  of  nineteen  recent  American  authors  and  their 
books,  interwoven  with  graphic  personal  details. 

The  Old  Northwest.    The  Beginnings  of  Our  Colonial  System. 
By  B.  A.  Hinsdale,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  Professor  in  the  University  of 
Michigan.     New  edition,  revised.     420  pp.      .         .         .         $1.75 

The  onljr  adequate  monograph  on  the  development  of  a  section  which  is  as  much 
a  historic  unit  as  New  England. 

"  One  of  the  most  valuable  additions  to  American  history  that  has  recently  been 
made,"  says  the  New  York  Sun. 

Historic  Pilgrimages  in  New  England. 

By  Edwin  M.  Bacon.     476  pp,     131  illustrations  $1.50 

The  narrative  of  early  New  England  and  its  high-souled  founders,  told  pictur- 
esquely to  readers  who  are  supposed  to  be  standing  on  the  very  spots  where  the 
stirring  Colonial  drama  was  enacted.  Of  keenest  interest  to  all  lovers  of  Yankee-land. 

The  Rescue  of  Cuba.    An  Episode  in  the  Growth  of  Free  Gov- 
ernment. 

By  Andrew  S.  Draper,  LL.D.,  President  of  the  University  of 
Illinois.     192  pp.     Elegantly  and  profusely  illustrated    .         $1.00 

A  judicious  and  inspiring  presentation  of  the  War  with  Spain  as  another  and  im- 
portant step  in  the  world's  movement  towards  human  liberty.  The  best  book  on  the 
War,  and  the  problems  it  has  left  for  our  solution.  "  It  reads  like  a  novel,"  says 
Lyman  Abbott.     "  It  is  accurate,"  says  Gen.  Wesley  Merritt. 

The  above  books  are  sold  by  leading  booksellers,  or  •will  be  mailed,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  o/ price. 


Silver,  Burdett  and  Company,  Publishers, 

Boston.  New  York.  Chicago. 


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